


Our Story (Whatever It Was)

by Besaster



Series: As Long As We Know The Truth [2]
Category: FCW, Professional Wrestling, WWE, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Bullying, Dean is the graphic definition of the word CONTRADICTION, Depression, Explicit Sex, Explicit drug and alcohol use, F/M, FCW - Freeform, Harassment, Humor, Invasion of Privacy, M/M, Other, Public Pressure, Renee is awesome as always, Seth and Dean's story, WWE - Freeform, Whatever the hell it is, buckle up this is gonna be a long ride, crude language, further tags and characters to be added as the story progresses, scandals, set in FCW
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-02-04 21:22:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 56,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12779781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Besaster/pseuds/Besaster
Summary: 'Overwhelmed' ended with Dean's life spiraling out of control, feeling his health, marriage with Renee, and job escape through his fingers. On top of that, Seth wanted to talk about them. 'Our Story' continues from there, with both sitting down to talk about things that never happened and will never happen again. Their story, whatever the hell it was.Part 2 of 'As Long As We Know The Truth' goes back in time and covers from FCW to the Shield's reunion.Dean went from wrestling in dirty backyards to Wrestlemania. Getting to the top wasn't exempt from obstacles: fears, a turbulent past, uncertainty. But there were also good times. Growth, satisfaction, stages that just got bigger. A group of guys with a shared dream helping each other achieve glory.And then... there was Seth.





	1. 10th October, 2017

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to Part 2 of ALAWKTT!!  
> I recommend you first read 'Overwhelmed' if you haven't. While this can stand alone on its own, reading both will give you a better picture of the whole story in the same way that reading this will fill all the necessary blanks left in 'Overwhelmed'. You'll find out how he got to that point and will also finally be able to read the full scenes related to the flashback chunks there.  
> We'll go back in time and follow Dean's story from joining FCW to nowadays.  
> I will add dates as we go so you can follow a continuity and revisit matches or any segments if you feel like it. I didn't do that in 'Overwhelmed' but wrote a little post where I talk about the process of writing this series and give the dates of the flashback in every chapter. You can find it here: https://besaster.tumblr.com/post/167668419366/the-funniest-most-frustrating-thing-about
> 
> And now I finally shut up and start with the story, buckle up and enjoy! This will be a long ride, I don't even want to think how long it's going to take to reach the end :)
> 
> NOTE: Bold Italics are for text messages.  
> WARNINGS: language, alcohol, depression, anxiety and Dean being a living contradiction.

_Tuesday, October 10th, 2017_

_1:30 AM, Seth’s hotel room_

“Remember the first time we met in FCW?“ the nasal voice started, a bit strained as Seth flinched slightly. “I know we met in the indies, but that was just a quick greeting.“

Dean shied away and unclenched his hands from Seth’s knees, unaware until that moment of the way his fingers dug and surprised his friend hadn’t complained. As far as he knew, he wasn't that drunk. He nodded absentmindedly trying to grant an unspoken apology. “Yeah… can’t even remember who introduced us anymore. Feels like forever ago, man.“ he grumbled, nostalgia and alcohol not entirely alleviating the tension he carried during this neverending day.

The corner of his eye caught Seth’s fond smile as he turned around to grasp his whiskey glass; the drink burning his throat as he gulped it and at the same time spreading warmth through his chest as his memory traveled six years back in time.

His mind sidetracked from what they were supposed to be talking about. Or maybe not, because FCW was where whatever the hell happened between them started. “You know what I’ll never forget Seth?“ he began but had no chance to continue or for Seth to say anything. A loud notification sound from his phone startled him.

“That must be Renee, she must be coming back.“ he uttered as he stretched and stood on his feet to fetch his phone from his gym bag. Unlocking the screen and touching on the notification revealed two messages. The first was a picture of a small round table covered on empty beer bottles. The second showed the same image, but in the background, he could see Renee, Charly, and Lita grinning red-cheeked and holding their thumbs up in the air.

He sauntered towards the bed, waving his phone excitedly in front of Seth’s face as he sat down next to him, his anxiety forgotten for a moment. A proud grin twisted his lips up and dimples went on full display as he shared the moment with him. “That’s my girl!“ he bragged, his chest swelling at the thought of how his wife could outdrink guys three times their size when it came to parties and beer. He truly couldn’t love her any more than he did.

Seth extended his neck to take a closer look at the photos and chuckled at the view as took the phone from Dean’s hand, examining them. “I have no clue of what a chick like her is doing with you dude. You know you won the fucking lottery with Renee don’t ya? She's too awesome for you“ he scoffed, but there was no real mischief in his words or his smirk, just affection for a good friend. “You _really_ don’t deserve her.“ he said softly, returning the phone.

Dean felt the handless slap though. _That_ last bit was a clear accusation, intentional and too true for comfort. He felt himself crawl back into his rotting walls as he looked away from Seth. “Think I don’t know that? With everything I’ve done… I honestly don’t think I have a way to fix it if shit explodes.“

Seth shrugged with a solemn look on his face. “You’ll have to grow a pair and deal with the consequences if it ever does.“ there was a pause as he drank, a moment to choose his words. “Y'know you don’t need to worry about me.“

He didn’t doubt that for a second. “I know you’d never screw me like that.“ a bitter grimace matched the self-deprecation in Dean's eyes and posture as he sighed. ‘ _I know you can’t_ ‘ he would have liked to say. “It speaks volumes about me that you of all people respect my wife more than I do, y’know'?“

The immediate reply he got was a hand tousling his hair and a bearded cheek brushing against his temple for a moment before he was let go. Seth regarded him for what felt like an eternity before his lips parted to speak. “Somebody has to." he scowled. "Told you earlier, our story is not just about you, I'm not made of stone. Would you have changed anything yourself if I hadn't been pushing you away for months?“

_"Our story is not just about you, can’t you see_ I’m _here?"_

Seth's earlier words echoed in his mind. Before Dean could betray himself once again and say _no_ , another loud notification took him out of his thoughts. He shook his head and brought himself back to reality, realizing it was a text message when he looked down at the phone still held in his hand.

_**Babeeee! You still up? I’m having so much fun with the girls, Lita invited me to travel to New York with her tomorrow after Smackdown, you ok if I just room with her tonight and ride with her to the next city tomorrow? I'm soooooo tired had so much fun! You were going to fly anyway. My stuff is in her rental, took everything this morning you ok with it? How’s your night you still up with the guys? You being good? Wanna see your cute face and Seth’s sexy panda pajamas plz plz plz send-a-pic!!!! What r u up to? Love ya!!** _

It was followed by a long line of heart icons. He slapped his forehead and sighed deeply before dropping his phone on Seth’s lap; his now free hand picking up his glass from between his legs to take a long sip. “I just can’t get any luckier. How many times am I gonna say that?” his breath caught in his throat at the fond memories his words brought again for the second time that night. 

A soft snort disrupted the silence and his gaze lifted to glance at Seth. He held the phone inches away from his nose, beaming and sniggering silently. His stare didn't go unnoticed. At some point, Seth caught him and turned his attention to Dean.

The grin his friend flashed couldn’t be any more sincere as he crawled closer to him, settling on his side with his legs around him on the bed, close but not too much. He looked relaxed as his foot dangled in the air out of the bed. 

He shivered under the intensity of the brown eyes boring into his. Whatever his face was showing, it just made Seth grin wider. An expectant gaze followed a tan hand curling into a loose fist and it didn't take long for him to feel the playful bumps against his chest.

Seth’s other hand reached out and tangled in Dean's messy hair, bringing them closer until he felt the warmth of breath and the smell of whiskey brushing his lips and nose. The brunette shortened the distance between them again and punctuated each laughed word with teasing kisses so quick Dean had no time or coordination to reciprocate. "You. Fucking. Cant. You. Piece. Of. Shit." he drew back with a chuckle as he watched the blonde try to chase his mouth, gently shoving him away.

Dean wasn't able to react in any other way in his drunk state than mimicking Seth's grin. His eyes widened in surprise as his friend moved quickly, wrapping an arm his shoulders and snapping a quick picture of the two of them with Dean's phone. Dean blinked astonished and tilted his head to the side in confusion, not getting what he was doing. He understood quickly though since Seth sent the picture to Renee, wrote a message and gave the phone back to him. When he tapped on the picture, he noticed it looked very similar to the one that broke the internet earlier, but this time their positions had changed even if their expressions stayed the same. The biggest difference was the lack of makeup covering the exhaustion on their skin.

_**Cool baby, gonna miss u. I'm changing my flight to go to Iowa. Take care ok? The guys are boring as fuck Roman went to his room already n fucker won't put on panda pajamas for you says he's tryin to save our marriage because that's too hot LOL. Have fun, love u!!**_

The intoxicated laughter from Seth had carried both a lot of alcohol and bitterness yet Dean knew he deserved the reprimand that was coming his way. "See my point?" he queried arching an eyebrow up. "It's your fuckin' responsibility. You can't depend on me to stop ya and blame me if I don't. I've got my own shit to be guilty of."

Dean edged to the furthest side of the bed, desperately needing distance from him. "Fuck you! Why the fuck did you do all of that?" he snarled. "If you know I can't say no why do you do it?"

Seth shrugged, his features taking on a calmer expression. "To prove a point, and to help you out. Renee is fucking worried about you, she's obviously giving you space to deal with your shit with us and she was asking for pictures to see how you were doing in case she had to cancel the plans with Lita." he shook his head furiously. "If you can't see it and that she needs to breathe away from your shit then you're even stupider than you look. By the way, you're welcome, dude."

It took him several seconds to process the truth coming out of his Seth's lips. He was right and his scheme had worked as he appeared beaming on the picture even if it wasn’t for the reasons Renee would think of. Being unable to say no to Seth was something he wouldn’t admit out loud though. Even if that was exactly what he'd just done. He was being called out for being a liar anyway and had no truth to defend himself. 

“Seth-” He spat, his eyes narrowing further and looking away from Seth but he crumbled as fast as he had exploded. His shoulders sagged and he brought his knees to his chest, hiding behind them like a child as his voice broke in his throat. "Please, just stop it." As pathetic and shaky as he felt, Dean didn’t have the energy to fight or argue and he just hoped his friend could see through that and stop.

When he finally dared to lift his chin up slightly and peek at Seth again, their eyes met and he found him lying comfortably on his back, his arms crossed under his head. "Let me know when you're done feeling sorry for yourself so we can arrange your flight, ya coming to Iowa and you're not coming back until we're done talking or you get some help." he guffawed and Dean just looked away again, unable to stand the sight. "Man, I'm sorry but you should see yourself. Dean Ambrose, the infamous Jon Moxley, is only afraid of two things, talking with an old friend and that the world knows where he's been sticking his dick for years."

While Dean was feeling pathetic, there was a limit to how low he was willing to drag his pride, so he decided that he'd had enough and turned around to get out of there. 

"Dean." the authority on Seth's voice made him stop in his tracks immediately. "C'mere. Hey-" as he turned around, all that was left on the other man's face was the exhaustion he knew his own face projected and his next words were barely a whisper. "C'mere, please?" Dean's mind spun out of control, unable to process Seth's mood swings on his anxious and drunken state. "I'm trying to help you, I'm sorry I just make things worse... But I _need_ us to talk, I'm human too and it's gotten to be too much for me too." they stared at each other as Seth sat up, and Dean hadn't really even thought of it when he found himself sitting down at the edge of the bed, within reaching distance.

Dean sensed physical pain in his heart under the guilt the consequences of his actions. It was really easy to forget that he was not the only one in the world, the only one whose personal life and career were on the line at all times. And it was too easy to make Seth pay for shit that wasn't his to carry.

Unable to stand the look on the tan face anymore, he crawled towards him and threw his arms around his body, squeezing him so hard they both fell backward and started laughing again at their own stupidity. When both calmed down, Dean craned his neck from where his head had fallen against Seth's shoulder and he hoped his poker face was as convincing as it looked in his mind. "If I go to Iowa with you-" he dawdled, feeling dizzy from the sudden movements and melting under the arms that wrapped lazily around him. "You promise we'll never speak about this again?" he begged and let his head rest on the juncture of Seth's neck and shoulder. 

He felt the rumble of silent snickers vibrate against his body and the movement as Seth rolled his head to place a brotherly kiss on the top of his hair. "Whatever you want as long as you let me help you, Dean. Or we can stay here if you want." he offered with a giddy smile. 

Dean sank even further into his body, starting to relax against the warmth emanating from him and under the fingers rubbing little trails on his side over his shirt. “Can we just stay here?” He breathed, his eyes sliding shut as he ignored the voice inside his head telling him that he didn’t deserve Seth either.

This time he didn’t only feel Seth’s laughter, he heard it. “Whatever buddy.” an exaggerate dorky grin pulled at his face. "We'll stay here all week if you want."

Dean hummed contentedly. ”Whatever.” he mimicked, feeling a small smile fight its way into his lips. He frowned when the gentle fingers drew away from his side and felt a friendly tap on his back.

The air had lightened a bit and booze was switching them to a calmer, more comfortable state. Dean decided to destroy whatever tension was left by trying to be his usual self. He nuzzled into Seth’s neck, grazing the bearded skin with his nose and grinning in pure mischief at the contented sigh that escaped his lips.

It was the perfect moment, so he did what he did best. Annoy Seth. He clenched a wide, annoying but not painful bite on the brunette’s jaw and hummed some stupid song while he did so.

“Aaargh- fuck you!!” He got the reaction that he wanted as arms and legs thrashed around trying to push him off. Dean barked with laughter and rolled off Seth's body to avoid getting hit. You can't get any more disgusting duuude!"

Dean battled his eyelashes in the image of the purest innocence he was able to portray, boasting as he lifted his index finger up. "And that's why ya love me." He powered up to prop on his elbows, his head balancing slightly and making his dorky grin dance in the air. "See what I just did?" he shook his head in disappointment at Seth, who just rolled his eyes in boredom and lied next to him. "I was tryin'a have this adult, nice conversation with you and you had to start with your bullshit. What the fuck was I talking about before I was so rudely interrupted?" he ignored the irked groan and rolled over again, draping half of his body on top of Seth's, burying his face on his neck for a moment and making himself as heavy and irritating as he could. 

Seth gave up and tried to lift his harms to make a peace gesture, but Dean had him trapped and could only shove at him apathetically. "Fuuuuuck. I give up!" he snorted softly as his eyes closed and the blonde just smiled at the sight. 

Stopping to think about it for once, he leaned towards his friend's face and brushed a nonchalant kiss on the corner of his lips. That was as far as he could reach from his position, feeling the slight shift into a small smile. He'd have time to torment himself for it later. "I fucking can't get any luckier." mouthed Dean as his lips grazed the warm skin with each word. "I don't deserve you either." his grin widened against the shivers he felt running all over Seth before he looked down at him and shifted, their mouths so close they were touching but not kissing.

"We were talking about FCW and ya said something about stuff you'd never forget." the nasal voice slurred against his lips with the same ease as they were inches apart.

"Y'know we're fuckin' ridiculous don't cha?" it took a while for the chuckling to let him speak again. "Yeah, I know what I was gonna tell ya." he mumbled dreamily as the memory of it hit him. Dean just pressed a quick peck on Seth's mouth before he rolled over to lie on his back again, turning slightly on his side so they could look at each other. "I'll never forget the first time I stood in front of the FCW building." he confessed like someone who shares their deepest secret, his hairs standing in awe at the memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that was chapter 1 :) Let's start slow and unveil little by little! Chapter 2 will take us directly into Dean's arrival to FCW. I'm so excited about writing this!  
> For Part 2, I decided to give you and myself a bit of a break so chapters will be shorter and easier to digest. It will also allow me to update more often now that I barely have time to breathe or sit down and write. Editing won't be so heavy for me so you can expect better chapters and writing.
> 
> As always, I love getting your comments and feedback and chat with you about them, so please comment -comments are open for guests too-, tell me what you liked, what you hated it, what you think can happen. Remember you can always drop me a line on Tumblr (Besaster) if you want to and that I will post previews, updates and little random bits on the process of writing this mammoth of a series.
> 
> But now it's time for me to shut my mouth (fingers?) and catch up on Survivor Series.
> 
> Tell you a secret? I've been dropping little tributes on this series, bonus points if anyone catches them ;) Thanks for reading and see you soon!


	2. 16th May, 2011

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'll never forget the first time I stood in front of the FCW building," he confessed like someone who shares their deepest secret, his hairs standing in awe at the memory.
> 
> A nervous and excited Dean arrives at the FCW building for the first time and finds himself speechless at the sight. He has a meeting with William Regal and Joey Mercury and learns about the company's expectations of him. Dean also receives very direct instructions on how he must project his life from now on. Or should we call them threats?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 is here!
> 
> Can you tell that both the mammoth muse and I are on fire? I'm off work this weekend and will stay at home so I will try to continue writing. I will try to advance some stuff so I can keep posting chapters as often as possible, but please keep in mind that I won't always be able to update so quickly.
> 
> We finally go back in time and Dean arrives at FCW. What does await him? 
> 
> You wouldn't believe the amount of research I'm doing to try to keep this as realistic and cohesive as possible while mixing them with the story. Yesterday I shared a picture of the old FCW building (there were only like four that I could find?), you can check it on the following link if you want to see what Dean saw: https://besaster.tumblr.com/post/167801072326/little-preview-of-chapter-2-of-our-story
> 
> My internet has fucked my notes several times in a row today, crashing whenever I hit the Save button. It also gave me hell while trying to spell check the chapter (lesson learned, internet-based checkers will fuck your writing and nerves up and make you edit the whole chapter again and again). I re-read the whole thing again after the last attempt but please let me know if I screwed up or anything is just too weird since this has left me exhausted.
> 
> Enjoy and thanks for coming back!!

_Monday, May 16th, 2011_

_11:00 a.m. Tampa, FL_

“Are you fucking kidding me?“ Thirty-five minutes later, he stopped and looked around the familiar street, feeling like it was the fifth time he walked past it. He wiped the sweat from his forehead when he felt a drop slid into his eye, already bummed enough by the thin trails of sweat rolling down his back and chest. What was it, eighty degrees? It sure as hell felt like ninety. It was just too humid, and the sun burned his naturally pale skin, but looking at the bright side, he wouldn’t have to worry about tanning while in Florida. He raked his fingers through his hair, annoyed that it stuck to the top of his forehead.

Dean rummaged through his duffel bag to retrieve a small water bottle and chugged what little liquid remained on it. While he’d given up on his macho pride long ago at his failure to find the FCW building and had stopped several locals asking for directions, it felt like he would never see it and had grown anxious.

Dean wanted to be there early for his meeting with William Regal and Joey Mercury, explore the building and its surroundings to feel confident once inside, to get in like he knew the area and the building like the palm of his hand. He didn’t want to let himself or them down. He knew from his phone talks with none other than the American Dream Dusty Rhodes that WWE had high expectations from him, and suspected the meeting he was about to have -if he ever found the damn building- would evolve around that.

It had been over a month since he was signed, but it was the first time he was going to step into the building and just a few days since he moved to Florida. He didn’t really care about formalities, meetings, etc., just wanted to wrestle, that’s what he lived and breathed for.

Taking a quick look at his phone to check if he was late already, Dean cursed himself for not being even able to afford a taxi. It would have been a lot easier to do so but he hadn’t performed in almost a month. Besides it wasn’t like the indies even covered his necessary expenses as it was when he worked on a weekly or sometimes daily basis. 

Dean could barely afford to buy food at this point, let alone a taxi or even a bus. Whatever he had last earned on the indies had gone into renting a shit hole to sleep in Tampa, and calling it a shit hole was a goodwill gesture.

Even his ass was sweating. He pulled at the back of his briefs, cursing his choice of clothes for the day, a grey tee and his best pair of jeans, but at least he had enough brains to put on a pair of sneakers instead of his boots as he planned to do initially.

He drew his phone from his pocket to check the time. 11:25 a.m., which meant he had less than thirty-five minutes to find his destination, dry the sweat and shake his fanboyism away before meeting Regal. Not only was the British a legend, but also one of the guys he studied to become the wrestler he was today and would be for years to come. His career had inspired many of Dean's in-ring mannerisms, promos, and psychology. And there he was about to meet him and was a pure sweaty, anxious mess.

He gasped when his eye caught somebody moving and ran towards an old warehouse where a middle-aged man was loading pallets and asked him for directions on a desperate attempt to be on time and not have to call Mercury and ask for help. Thankfully the man knew had two young sons who he’d taken to the Arena more than once. He explained he was less than fifteen minutes away from the FCW building and gave simple indications to get there. He just had to get to the other side of the warehouses and continue forwards along the road.

Dean had some doubts, but the man told him with a fatherly smile that he would  _know_ the place as soon as he was there, and was even kind enough to walk him through the warehouse to shorten his way. Full of gratitude he didn’t leave without promising the man he would personally come here to invite him and his kids to his first match and television debut. And then, once he was in the right direction, he ran, his head turning side to side to catch any sign that said FCW, WWE or anything familiar to him.

 

He almost tripped as he tried to take another look at his phone to make sure he wasn’t late for his meeting and stopped to catch his breath. 11:43 am. Twenty-seven minutes. Dean started moving with a slow walk, trying to control his panting when his heart stopped.

To his right side and a corner on the road, black and yellow, sharp and breathtaking, the FCW building stood out between the plain white buildings around. There was something special about the way they had taken care of every single detail on the outside of the building; it was old-fashioned in a way. Small palm trees and tropical plants at the entrance surrounded the ramp for the disabled and the stairs, but what made his legs tremble wasn’t that, but the handrails had been painted like ring ropes, black on the outside and yellow on the middle ‘rope’.

It suddenly hit him that he had finally made it. Even if he had signed, he knew it wouldn’t feel real until he finally got there. Hell, even that wasn’t enough for him, he wouldn’t wholly assume he had been signed by WWE until he wrestled his first match.

But the rapid heartbeats, the sweat that couldn’t be entirely blamed on the Florida heat anymore and the lump in his throat said otherwise. He had made it into WWE, developmental if you may, but from the way Dusty had painted the picture, the company had big plans for him. The FCW phase was just a necessary step to go from Jon Moxley to the tentative Dean Ambrose name the legend had assigned to him. An adaptation process for both Dean and the new audience that would get to know him by, a test to see if he could work in the PG times that were installing themselves on the company.

Dean quickly shook himself out of his thoughts and dropped his bag on the concrete so he could take his shirt off and put on a black tank top he usually carried inside. He took his time drying the sweat from his body and look as decent as possible before taking a few steps towards the building, duffel bag in hand and feeling more impressed by the sight as he got closer.

He probably stared at the walls for far too long since a low chuckle and an amused yet honeyed, heavily accented voice took him out of his bubble. “Merry Christmas, Mister Ambrose.“ None other than William Regal stood at the door, a hand up in salute. Dean rushed towards his idol and shook his hand, unable to do nothing but stand in awe in front of him. “I take it you’re happy to be here, welcome to FCW. We are glad to employ you, lad.“

Trying to regain his composure, Dean tried his best to stop acting starstruck. ”I-I’m so honored Mister Regal. I promise I won’t let you guys down.”

Regal regarded him with a calm yet broad smile. “I know you won’t, but we will discuss that later. Now follow me, I will show you the premises.“

Dean followed him inside the building, modest and not as flashy as the outside. Once they passed the wide lobby area, reception desk to a side and the rest of the room was empty except for the doors fans used to get into the arena. Regal informed food and merchandise stands were placed during the live events and tapings on the other side. 

They continued to a restricted hall with just a couple of offices inside, two small locker rooms, a big classroom with chairs, whiteboards and a big tv screen. It connected through two doors more doors on different walls with a larger area used both as a training center and a tv studio. Regal showed him everything except that last section, claiming an in-ring psychology demonstration was happening at the moment, and Dusty had demanded that it wasn’t interrupted.

“He believes he needs your first fights here need to be as  _virginal_ as possible _,_ to quote his words. Like a blind test to find out your chemistry with your opponents. I don’t think you understand why you have been signed yet, my friend.“ Dean was sure he could get used to the fond smile and the voiceless chuckle, so calm and different from what was usual on indie wrestling promoters. “Since you are an experienced wrestler and you have seen it all, we don’t think that may be an issue for you.“

Blue eyes blinked in confusion and something fluttered inside his chest. Dean followed William Regal into one of the offices and smiled in relief when he looked into the familiar face of Joey Mercury. He rushed towards him, and instead of taking the hand he was offered, decided he could do nothing less than hug him tight. Mercury laughed and patted his back in a friendly way.

Following Joey’s instructions, Dean sprawled out on a chair and dreamily but fully aware listened to the general welcome phrases from the other men. He nodded and took mental notes as they elaborated on how they thought his perfect debut date would be May 26th to start fighting some wrestlers on house shows before he made his debut on tv tapings.

“As William said before, you won’t train in the ring with the tv roster, you’ll do it in the morning shift with the newest trainees, but the promo lessons you’ll take them with the tv roster.” Mercury grinned sheepishly at Dean’s expression. If his face gave in to what he was thinking, it wouldn’t be any less than offended. “At least until Dusty decides to move you. Those on the road and tv train in the evening and take their promo and technical wrestling classes in the morning so you’ll just stay here after training and join them.“

Regal continued when the other man paused to drink water. “You need to understand that you will start out here as any other wrestler other than that. And you’ll still partake in tasks like setting posters before the training sessions, building and dismantling the ring after each show, etc. You know the drill. We demand this from all our wrestlers.“ he chuckled at Dean’s groan. “I always hated doing posters when I was younger, but it’s something you still need to do.“

Dean raised his hands in the air in defeat. “Whatever guys. I just want to wrestle I don’t mind doing these things.“ he tried to shrug it off, but it was obviously too late.

Mercury laughed good-heartedly. “Just like I thought, we got ourselves another diva.“ Both Dean and Regal joined in for the laughter until it died down and Joey’s face fell. He looked dead serious when he spoke again. “However, there are a few serious things that we need to discuss before we even start talking about your future. William, shall I?“

“Don’t worry, I’ll take it from here.“ the British wrestler raised a hand slightly to signal him to back off.

Regal remained severe but affable as he continued. “Dean, I won’t talk around it and will be direct and honest with you. We’ve hesitated over offering you a contract for almost a year. We originally intended to make you an offer in August last year at the same time we signed Seth Rollins, Joey pitted the idea. Both Dusty and me agreed with his eye for talent.“ he leaned forward on the table with an intense look, his elbows propped there as he cracked his knuckles. “But Vince refused at first because of the PG era and the implications of signing somebody known for matches that were anything except PG. We couldn’t risk you going too far in language, gestures or attitude in the ring and upset any of the big sponsors.“

Dean could feel his heart beating in his stomach, his throat, his forehead, anywhere but his chest, panic blurring his eyesight.

That was  _it_. WWE got cold feet on him and had no better time to crush his dreams than the first time he set foot in the office. “As you’ll understand, at the end of the day what the company wants, no matter how much we all love wrestling, is money. So we dropped the idea, at least temporarily, waiting for a better moment to push for you. The three of us knew we  _had_ to bring you here no matter the cost and go all-in with Dusty’s gut feeling.“

Dean didn’t dare open his mouth, he just stared at Regal, feeling how he became smaller by every passing second, unable to believe the words his ears registered and almost jumping out of the chair as he continued. “To sum it up, just like years ago we built today’s stars that will be the legends of tomorrow, lads like John Cena and Randy Orton, Dusty and I saw the next legends in you and Rollins. We also tried to convince McMahon to sign Brodie Lee to add a big yet talented guy to the mix, but he refused immediately even if Triple H was on our side.“ it was obvious he was annoyed about that. “They already decided who they want to make the future face of the company though. So there is not much we can do besides trying to make sure the wrestlers we have are the best we can get." He lowered his voice, mischief shining on his smirk like someone who shares a dirty secret. "We'll still try to get our way, show them performers so good they can't say no to them, just like we did with you.“

“All of this means,“ interrupted Mercury. “That you have been signed as a big deal in the long term, so big that we need you to bury and forget the Jon Moxley persona you used to go by. You know, not have it show its head at  _any_  point unless instructed by WWE.“ his gaze shifted from Dean to William Regal.

“Exactly. From now on, no more scandals. We don't want any sort of unwanted media or fan attention on you outside of the ring and your FCW or WWE duties. No more hitting, insulting or humiliating women in the ring or out of it, no wrestling drunk or high. No drunk or high you around these premises or anywhere near a ring, fans or a camera.“ Dean knew he wasn’t even blinking until he felt his eyes dry and burning. “You’ll keep an appropriate language in public, especially around children which you will always treat with the utmost respect, no more scaring them or making them cry." the Englishman's eyes didn't leave Dean's for a second. 

"You will speak about nothing other than your matches and feuds.” Regal paused for a moment to take a sip of tea. “Of course we know ninety-nine percent of your interviews will approach your past as it’s out there and it’s not the usual path of a WWE superstar. But you will give vague, non-committed or descriptive replies. If the interview is done by the company, you will be able to speak with a bit more freedom, however, we'll instruct you on how to reply beforehand so nobody gets in trouble. Do we have an agreement?“

Dean nodded, swallowing the anxious lump in his throat. “You are asking me to keep a low profile, I can do that.“ he fidgeted with his fingers for a while, his eyes locked on his lap as he put his thoughts in order. “You may not believe me, but I’m the first one interested in leaving all that shit behind. What I did in the past not only got me noticed by WWE but by many psychos and a lot of disturbing shit has happened to me ever since." he gritted his teeth. "I can’t change my past, but I don’t want it fucking up my dreams and future. I- I just want to wrestle.“

Regal flashed him an understanding smile. “Of course you do. We believe you, and we don’t necessarily agree with going this route and blatantly threatening you as we are, but it’s what has to be done. You, young man, are  _it_ , and we are only sorry that we couldn’t make Vince see it earlier than we did. However, his demands must be met, and you’ll keep yourself out of trouble.“ the British poured himself some more tea. “Nobody cares or will judge you for what you do privately, but we can’t allow any scandals here. Retribution may go from the McMahons burying you during your WWE tenure until you’re released or your contract expires to your career being forever destroyed. Don’t take it as they’re bloody bastards because they aren't; business owners will just do whatever it takes to protect their business and their workers.“

A little chuckle from Joey broke the tension in Regal, but Dean didn’t understand where it came from and he just tensed even more, feeling dizzy and about to blackout. “Vince and Hunter are actually big fans of yours. They loved your work in the indies and that was the only reason it took them so long to decide. Don’t tell them I said this to you but I think they’re just bummed you weren’t born fifteen years earlier to make money off you during the Attitude Era.“

Regal broke into a fit of laughter and Dean watched them hesitantly, faking it as he joined in their laughter since he didn't actually feel any of the conversation was funny at all.

 

They continued talking for a while, a lighter tone setting in the room and Dean slowly relaxed and brightened when the conversation moved to what they expected of him as a wrestler and what his schedule was going to be until his debut. There was some small yet fascinating talk appreciating each other careers and giving feedback on matches they’d watched.

At some point, the ringing of a phone interrupted their talk and Mercury flashed them an apologetic grin. “Sorry guys, gotta answer. I’ll be back in a minute. Since you're done for today, I can drive you to your place if you want to Dean.“ Dean gave him a thumbs up as he left the room and turned his sight back to Regal.

"Don't let this bring you down or distract you from what's truly important Ambrose. You will shine both in FCW and WWE. You will fucking shine anywhere you go because you're that good, but use your brain, you are a smart man."

Dean just nodded, feeling at a loss of words. Never had he been so scared of just being himself and of the life he'd lived. The two veteran's words kept running around in circles in his mind as Joey drove back home.

The next day would be his first day as an actual FCW wrestler, as a WWE wrestler. It would be a new day, a new life.

He couldn't wait to get in the ring again and do what he did best and loved the most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my, I'm having SO much fun writing this story. I guess you can tell because I'm beating every single tentative update deadline I give you lol. Please keep in mind I won't always be able to keep up with this pace due to my crazy schedule, long working hours and life in general. 
> 
> Don't you hate me at this point with how much I'm making Dean suffer? lol. 
> 
> OSWIW is a lot funnier to write because even if it's going to have a lot of angst, Dean will also have lots of fun, he's going to live his dream, adapt to FCW, we'll finally see whatever he had (has?) with Seth, the start of the Shield... it's scary to think of how long this can go on if we let it! You'll notice as we go that the present time will make appearances but that Part 2 of ALAWKTT will mainly evolve in the past.
> 
> But about this chapter, do you think Regal and Mercury went too far? Does it make sense that the company makes these demands and blatant threats? How do you think that will affect Dean from now on? How will he react? Not only to that but to their request to train with newbies when they're telling him he's 'it'?
> 
> As always, I love getting your comments and opinions, so please don't be shy!! Whether you liked it or hated it, if something didn't make sense, your predictions, any questions that pop into your mind... I'm always happy to listen and feel blessed to see that people are enjoying this story. Remember you can always drop me a line on Tumblr (Besaster) if you want to and that I post previews, random stuff, and updates on the series if you feel like taking a look.
> 
> Infinite thanks for reading and see you very soon *hearts*


	3. 17th May, 2011

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Dude, have you tried to make this a better place, to help them get better instead of throwing toddler tantrums and whining like a bitch?” His grin only grew wider at the flustered glare he received, and it was his turn to gloat. “I see. Well, this is how I roll, raising the bar wherever I go. You either get on board or go fuck yourself, I ain’t no time or energy for bullshit.” 
> 
> Dean's first day as an FCW trainee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 is live! 
> 
> I'm so excited about how this is rolling :) A few days ago I posted a little preview on Tumblr for this chapter accompanied by the piano version of 'Alive' by Sia. I think it suits this part of the story well!
> 
> By the way, the descriptions of the inside of the FCW building are as close as I could get, found some actual pictures and info online and hope to be able to transport you into it as much as those pictures did to me ;)
> 
> I'm trying to keep my notes short today, so please go on and hope you enjoy the chapter.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

_Tuesday, 17th May 2011_

_FCW building, Tampa FL_

It was impossible to miss the sight of the truck parked at the side of the road with the image of The Miz printed all over it, a poster for the upcoming Over The Limit WWE pay-per-view. The thought that one day it would be his face in its place made a shiver run down Dean’s spine, wondering for a brief moment how the guy behind the face on the picture must have felt when he saw himself in that position. His gut told him he’d have the chance to ask him in the future.

Standing outside of the building, old duffel bag slung over his shoulder and wearing a more appropriate choice of clothes for the Florida weather than the day before; Dean Ambrose was minutes away from his first training session as an FCW wrestler. He took a deep breath before he pulled the door open, strutting into the hall like he owned the place.

On the drive back home after their tense meeting, Joey Mercury had briefed him on what his first day was going to be so he came prepared.

Dean crossed the open door to the hall that was meant only for workers to use. It connected the lobby with the locker rooms, classroom and training areas; this time noticing the distribution of the building with more attention than the previous morning. He guessed it would stay locked during events to avoid fans sneaking in and spared a moment to reflect on how well thought the placement of the rooms was.

Once he stepped into the men’s locker room, he cordially greeted his fellow trainees, not wasting any time on small talk afterward. He found himself an empty corner, dropped his bag and put away his sunglasses inside, almost forgetting to take his keys from his grey basketball shorts’ pocket it before he bolted outside, dying to see the wrestling area.

Only a set of doors separated him from the room where his FCW televised matches would take place and would launch his WWE career.

Taking small, heavy steps, unlike the smug way he’d walked into the building, he gasped at the sight his eyes caught upon pushing the doors open and walking past the small gorilla position area. It wasn’t how he expected it from the descriptions Regal had given him the previous morning.

It looked very different from the videos and pictures he’d seen online now that it wasn’t set for a taping; the large posters portraying the FCW main eventers and WWE superstars hung up from the black walls, the chairs, barriers, and mats folded and placed against the walls. The primary focus of the room was the naked ring in the middle, and he couldn’t resist running his fingers along the side of the ring apron as he strode through the room.

Dean noticed the doors to his right belonged to the fan entrance for the tapings and live performances held in the building. He circled the ring and pushed the doors leading to the training area open, usually hidden during tapings and events by the now rolled-up flag. And he’d be a damn liar if he didn’t admit his legs went weak at the sight, unlike anything he could have expected.

Inside the huge and messy room, three rings stood to the left side, each with a different set of ropes and, as his experienced eyes also realized different mat densities for various kind of practices and ring styles. Under them, there were piles of rectangular mats and a few scattered water bottles and cardboard boxes.

An open space in the middle, where he guessed briefings and body training took place and to the right, a perfectly equipped gym with all sort of cardio and weight machines that some of his still nameless coworkers were already using, weightlifting areas and a corner with fitness balls, kettlebells fully prepared for calisthenic workouts.

Dean waved and approached them to make an introduction, but a voice behind his back made him turn around quickly to see Tom Prichard. “Yo, kids! Let’s get started, the earlier we start, the earlier we get our asses out of here. This is Dean Ambrose, a.k.a. Jon Moxley if you follow up with the indies. Now on with the class!“ the retired wrestler shouted as he clapped his hands hurrying them.

After forming a circle for the daily class breakdown and instructions, he spent the first portion of the following four hours doing an intense and lengthy workout to move on to practicing different drills, techniques and finishing moves later.

While happy to be in a ring for the first time in weeks, the wrestling part of the training session felt frustrating and somewhat ruined the good mood invading him after his weighted workout. Dean removed his damp white tank top, feeling sore all over his body in ways he hadn’t since his first years training at a wrestling school by the time it was over. Many moves were botched over and over, and sometimes he simply couldn’t take the bumps safely with the way they were being executed.

He did his best to give every guy helpful advice and corrections, leading an example to follow as he performed every move and finisher safely and with extreme precision; giving instructions on both how to give and take them in the most efficient way to avoid injuries and make it believable for the audience.

After applying his Midnight Special finisher hundreds of times, Dean winced at the way his shoulder throbbed; his sharp blue eyes narrowing as he mentally cursed Dusty for making him go through this when he was already an experienced indie wrestler. He knew he’d be covered in bruises by the end of the day due to the too tight grips and botched moves. Hadn’t he known any better, he would have thought the Hall of Famer was trying to get him injured.

Relief washed over him when Prichard shouted at the group to stop and start with a cooling down routine. He went through it quickly and stormed outside of the training area after shaking the trainer’s hand and having a small conversation with him. Prichard didn’t appreciate his honesty when Dean expressed he was too good to train with these newbies, snapping back at him that hadn’t he been blinded by his ego, he’d see _that_ was precisely the reason he was training with them. He felt his face burn in shame and just turned around and left before he could embarrass himself any further or ended up making an unwanted enemy in the veteran wrestler.

After taking a longer than usual, scalding shower, Dean felt equally sore, but at least his mood had improved a bit. Since he had to wait for the promo lessons with the tv roster, he could take his time getting dressed and stretching his aching muscles a bit before heading to the classroom. He avoided any contact with the newbies, knowing he would get upset again at having to train with people that were nowhere ready to get in a ring with him -or with anyone else to be honest.

He lazily slid into a loose pair of faded black sports pants and a black tank, sitting down to tie his sneakers after. As he sat back up and looked around the locker room, the feeling hit him out of nowhere.

He’d made it into the WWE.

Now it was true that it was developmental and under the FCW name, he had to force himself to remember that this wasn’t WWE, not yet. Technically it was since they owned FCW, so his excitement felt more than justified; he was going to step into a WWE ring again, and that was what fueled his empty stomach on his demanding first day.

Dean propped his elbows on his thighs and bent forwards, resting his forehead on his hands, his eyes closed as he felt the smile stretching his face broad and making his chest flutter. He was going through hell, and his start at the company looked like it wouldn’t be an easy one, but he didn’t give a shit about it. He’d made it to the WWE, and his dream was finally becoming true after all the hardships he had to endure on the indies.

“Duude, never thought I’d see someone like you so happy after training with the wannabes.“ A nasal, amused voice broke his satisfied bubble. Dean didn’t appreciate being taken out of his thoughts and slowly raised his narrowed gaze to see the waistband of a pair of dark gym shorts, an old grey ‘A Day To Remember‘ tee shirt surrounded by tan arms. He blinked twice and looked into a slightly familiar smirking young face and sharp brown eyes. “Nice to see you again, Dean Ambrose is it now?“

Dean shook the hand extended to him and flashed a smug grin of his own. “Yeah, Dean Ambrose. Tyler? Wait no, it’s Rollins now if I’m correct?“ It had taken him a moment to realize it was the wrestler previously known as Tyler Black, they had only seen each other a couple of times and never really had a conversation and had just been introduced quickly at a couple of events. “Took me a sec to remember.“ He always found it funny how clothes or a different hairstyle could change a person, but since he didn’t want to offend anyone on his first day, Dean bit back a comment about how out of the ring Rollins looked like an eighteen-year-old kid.

“Not surprised.“ Seth’s smirk gave way to a frown. “To be honest, you’re my last hope, man. I’m sick of having shit matches with these useless fuckers and expect you’ll give me a bit of a challenge. Been excited since they told us you were coming to FCW.“ he crossed his arms and snarled as he glared around the room to make a point. Dean understood he meant he was sick of the other wrestlers, but none were sharing the space with them at the moment, the only ones left still in the showers. “I’m just too good for this fucking place, should’ve gone to TNA instead.“ he muttered to himself, eyes narrowed, and his arms crossed tightly.

Dean stared at him in astonishment, trying to suppress a laugh. “Holy shit, someone’s got a chip on his shoulder.“ it wasn't a question. Before he could add anything else, Seth shot him a weird, knowing look and raised a finger, exuding arrogance.

“Mark my words, you’re on your WWE honeymoon now, let’s see how long it takes you to hate it.”

Dean couldn’t avoid the bark of laughter this time, his eyes glinting with glee and amusement at how his new coworker was coming off more like a child than the star he seemed to believe himself to be. “Dude, have you tried to make this a better place, to help _them_ get better instead of throwing toddler tantrums and whining like a bitch?” His grin only grew wider at the flustered glare he received, and it was his turn to gloat. “I see. Well, this is how I roll, raising the bar wherever I go. You either get on board or go fuck yourself, I ain’t no time or energy for bullshit.” He tried to sound motivational, still intent on not making enemies his first day and aware that he was probably failing miserably.

Another burst of laughter rumbled through Dean at the sight of Seth’s dumbfounded features. The kid was expressive for sure and didn’t look like he was used to people calling him out on his bullshit, not even in a teasing way. Dean made a mental note to test his boundaries to see how far he could go to have fun at his expense in the future.

“Oh- fuck you, I’m not in the mood for bullshit today.“ Seth turned around and stomped forward, stopping in his tracks to turn around again. “We were told you’d join us today for promo class. Dusty will leave you out if you don’t come now.“ he groaned and left the locker room, slamming the door shut on his way out. Dean stood up and followed him, suddenly excited to attend a class by Rhodes, even if he considered he didn’t need any promo classes.

Everybody had already taken a seat in the classroom when Dean almost tiptoed into the room. The foldable chairs were set on a semicircle around the TV screen. He looked at the empty seat but was interrupted before he could advance.

“Dean, just in time!” none other than Dusty Rhodes beamed and directed everybody’s attention to the newcomer, stopping his chat with one of the students; his battered body making a beeline towards him to put him on a bear hug. “Welcome to FCW and a new life! I’m so glad to have you here son.“ he said softly before letting him go. “Kids! I already told you yesterday, but today we have a new student trainee joining us in FCW, please welcome Dean Ambrose. Some of you already know him as Jon Moxley from the indies.“

Dean felt a bit self-conscious under the scrutiny from the rest of the roster. Some wrestlers looked happy, Rollins amongst those; others curious, and there were a few who appeared bored, apparently not having a clue who he was. They would know soon enough.

“There’ll be time for introductions later, but now I’ve got a class to teach. Don’t think we’ll skip the feedback session just because we have a newcomer today.“ Dusty chuckled and pointed to the only empty seat in the class as he approached a bigger chair next to the video station, that today had an added laptop connected to the screen. “Please, take a seat next to Damien, Dean.”

As Dean took his seat and shook the hand of the tall, dark-haired guy who introduced himself as Damien Sandow, Dusty continued with a debriefing of the promo class. “Today we’re going to analyze the promos from the last TV taping; we do this every week to help you guys get better and find your ground promo wise. We will also have a bit of a role-play where you guys prepare promos the day before and work on your improvisation. To finish the class, we’ll watch an external promo to review and see what we can learn from it.“ he said to the whole class. “Dean, I know how good of a promo you are and know you’ll kick their asses into becoming as good as you are. But since you’re new and haven’t taken part on any tapings yet, I ask you just to listen and watch today without interference unless told to, okay?“

Dean grinned and gave the legend a thumbs up, making a zipping gesture with his fingers over his lips to make his agreement known. Just being around Dusty made him feel excited, having been in the presence of two of the most celebrated talkers in the business ever in a twenty-four-hour span.

Dusty asked one of the students to turn the lights off and fumbled with the video station, finally starting the video and forwarding until he found the part of the show he wanted to analyze. He announced it was a promo from Seth Rollins, who was currently feuding Damien Sandow for the FCW 15 title. First, he played the whole promo then went back into the video to the start of it, stopping it now and then to share his insight.

The moment the video started playing, Dean went immediately into professional mode, studying the facial expressions; the voice, tone, and delivery. The first thing he noticed was something he hadn’t before on his short interactions with Rollins and the videos he’d watched of him, which were mainly matches with no talking involved. He spoke with a lisp, and his pronunciation wasn’t the cleanest, sounded forced and unnatural. It was surprising, considering how natural and expressive he looked when he was absorbed by his matches or outside of the ring.

Rollins wasn’t good at his delivery either, body tense and face blank, the intensity his words were supposed to have not reaching either his voice or expression. He sat back comfortably and raised an eyebrow, internally nodding to himself and agreeing with every piece of feedback provided by Dusty. He glanced around the room and noticed some of the trainees taking notes to improve their work with the priceless advice. People who wanted to learn were the ones interesting to him.

A glance towards his fellow wrestler told Dean his previous instinct that Seth wasn’t used to and didn’t take any sort of critique well. Rollins’ eyebrows were furrowed the whole time as he sat incredibly straight, his arms crossed and his foot tapping the floor in irritation, almost dismissing the wise advice he was being given.

Once Dusty was done with his analysis, there was a round of suggestions and questions for all the other students to give their opinion and say how they think the promo could be improved. Dean could see Rollins was making himself some enemies from the glee and not at all hidden malice coming from their words. He probably deserved it, judging by what little he’d seen so far. The way he saw it, you can’t be arrogant if you’re not the whole package, and that guy indeed wasn’t.

The same process was followed with all the promos from the latest show. Dean was captivated by the way Dusty corrected the students and the way he instructed how they could have done a better job. While he didn’t think he needed the classes, he could listen to the Hall of Famer talk forever.

The promo improv part of the class went similarly, with the guys shooting promos at each other and the whole roster interfering and giving their feedback. As promised, Dean observed silently, getting to know his coworkers beforehand by their delivery and comments.

He felt exhausted by the time they reached the last part of the class, the external promo review. Dusty opened another video file and the screen turned black. “Kids, I want you to pay full attention now, as you won’t often see a promo like this and this seven-minute video will teach you more than years of lessons. This should be your goal, what you aspire to be as a talker in this business.“ he announced before he clicked on the play button.

Dean almost fell off his seat when he saw himself on the screen, barefoot and sitting on a dirty floor against a door, his attire a white short sleeve tee and a pair of jeans. His legs were flexed, knees almost touching his sides and his body almost a rocking package, his back slightly crouched forward. Shivers ran through his body as he watched and heard his own slurred, passionate and _honest_ words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean is almost done with his first day in FCW and will soon begin understanding the way things work there. Seth has finally entered the FCW picture and more wrestlers will make their appearance as the story goes on. 
> 
> This class will continue in Chapter 4 to avoid making the chapter too long, I will also link the promo I'm referring to so you can watch it if you haven't as it's an amazing one, probably my favorite from Dean so far. Dean will also keep meeting his fellow wrestlers and learn how to move around FCW. He will debut at a live event and the story will continue to move on.
> 
> So... what do you think of Dean's first day so far? Will the 'honeymoon' as Seth called it last or will Dean get frustrated even before he debuts? How will he interact with his coworkers? Do you think he's being too hard on the newbies? What about the promo class?
> 
> As always, I love getting your comments and feedback and our talks about them, so please comment -comments are open for guests too-, tell me what you liked, what you hated, what you think will happen or anything you want to share. Remember you can always drop me a line on Tumblr (Besaster) if you want to and that I keep posting previews, updates and little random bits on the process of writing this mammoth of a series.
> 
> Another thing I wanted to talk to you about is that I'm planning on posting a little side one shot inside this series around Christmas, told from Seth's POV. I still haven't decided exactly what it will be about and am open to your ideas, suggestions, and requests. What would you like Seth to tell us? Any chapter from their story here or from their general story you'd like to see from his POV? This is your chance to ask, and I may deliver.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and see you very soon :)


	4. 17th-19th May, 2011

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean had watched this promo dozens of times, had lived it before it was taped and had re-lived his own story as he told it. He’d regretted it at times and others felt it like the most liberating experience so far in his life.
> 
> “I have something to prove, something that I owe to somebody, and she’s pro wrestling. I owe pro wrestling; it’s the only reason I’m still alive. And it pisses me off, and it makes me sick, everybody else thinks wrestling owes them something."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back to continue where we left in Chapter 3!
> 
> I found time to write this weekend so here is a new update. My apologies for the 'Chapter 4' uploaded for a few days since AO3 wouldn't update when I posted Chapter 3.
> 
> I've transcripted most of it for this chapter (which took forever), but before we start, I recommend you watch the promo mentioned in the last episode anyway, it will break your heart and blow your minds. I shared the video here: https://besaster.tumblr.com/post/168187467291/our-story-whatever-it-was-chapter-4-is-up
> 
> Enjoy and thanks for reading!
> 
> NOTES: Italics are for promo speech. * between promo paragraphs signal there are excerpts I'm leaving out of it and didn't transcript.

_Tuesday, 17th May 2011_

_FCW building, Tampa FL_

_“So much of being a success in this sport is predicated on how well you take advantage of opportunities when they come. Sometimes, no matter how desperately you want them; no matter how ready you want to seize them, no matter how hard you try, the opportunities just don’t come.”_

*

_“Opportunities come, and they sit in front of me I just stare at them blankly. Like a disenchanted teenager would stare at his parents when he's been told to clean his room or do his homework. But it was only- it's hard enough when a guy like me, just getting through the day without being jailed or hospitalized and I come to wrestling-”_

Something akin to self-consciousness invaded Dean as he stared at the sight of himself on the screen, how worn out and fucked up he looked. He flinched at the awkward way he seemed to be hiding into himself at the start of it, fidgeting uneasily, crossing an elbow over the other seeking for protection at the same time honesty burned through every word leaving his lips.

Dean could distantly hear the turning of pages around him, some furious scribbling; muttering to themselves, some harsh breathing, a gasp here and there. He didn’t want to take his eyes off the screen and see the reactions from the other wrestlers, he knew they were blown away, and that made him proud. His promos meant to make people uncomfortable, to stir something in them.

But the reactions he got always forced him to take responsibility for how much he opened during them, edging away from the wrestling character and digging into the person behind. There had been times when he hadn’t know where one ended and the other began.

Transfixed by his performance and from Dusty’s words before playing the video, Dean felt like jumping out of his skin. Such praise felt heavy and tugged at his heartstrings in a way that made him want to storm out of the classroom, hide somewhere to cry it like a child.

As the promo went on, his rocking got more erratic, his tone sharper and resentful, letters tripping over themselves and letting in that the emotion he showcased came from the reality behind them. Dean wondered if his words hit people in the face the way they struck him as they left his mouth, the slap burning harder as they became more intimate through his speech.

_“Everybody, as soon as I walk by- I hear it everywhere, voices. Voices. Voices. I don’t know what they're saying or why they're saying it. I don’t understand but I- I have a pretty good idea. Well, Jon, Jon's got some talent. But we don’t understand everything he does or why does it completely; or approve of everything he does necessarily, so he's a fuckup. He’s just a fuckup. But those voices aren’t even the worst. The worst voices are the ones in my head, twenty-four seven, just camped out and they never shut up, and they scream, and they yell, and they echo in my ears in my brain, and they never shut up-”_

*

_“Every time I get in the ring it’s like wrestling a ghost, and no matter how hard I try I just can’t get a grip.“_

Dean had watched this promo dozens of times, had lived it before it was taped and had re-lived his own story as he told it. He’d regretted it at times, and others felt it like the most liberating experience so far in his life. Whatever the case, it never seemed to stop him from experiencing the clench in his gut at the moment he breaks and is overwhelmed by his own story, at the point of no return tearing his heart out.

_"When I decide I wanna be on, there's nobody that can touch me."_

*

 _“I have something to prove, something that I owe to somebody, and she’s pro wrestling._ I _owe pro wrestling; it’s the only reason I’m still alive. And it pisses me off, and it makes me sick, everybody else thinks wrestling owes them something. All the time, me me me me me, I should be champion, I should be a featured performer, I shouldn’t be paired with this guy in a team, I should get more mic time, I should get this, whatever. I’ll give you something! I’ll give you all something to cry about tonight!!! I love pro wrestling, and I owe pro wrestling. It doesn’t owe me anything. Because it’s given me the only thing that makes me happy, the only high in this world that makes it worth getting up out of bed every day, and when it hits my bloodstream, and it courses through my veins, and explodes in my heart and the warm feeling coming over my brain, the whole world makes sense. And that’s what I owe pro wrestling.“_

The sound of a pen falling on the floor, a harsh gasp, and a ‘ _Holy. Fucking. Shit.’_ mumbled by a familiar voice -loud enough for him to catch over the video’s sound-, Dean finally looked around and glanced at the other wrestlers. Their eyes were glued to the screen, some mouths gaping open but the one who looked the most shocked and was cursing his brains out was Rollins.

A pair of dark-rimmed glasses sat at the top of his nose as he clutched his notebook tightly and stared at the screen glassy-eyed. Dean would have laughed at the sight after their previous interaction hadn’t he been so shaken from rewatching the promo.

His train of thought was cut by a loud eruption of applause, which he hadn’t seen coming even when he was looking towards the other wrestlers. His promo was over.

Dusty was standing up.

His fellow wrestlers were standing up and applauding.

He was overwhelmed.

Dean felt full, and finally, _finally_ , his dream was becoming true.

He’d made his way it into WWE, taken his opportunity. And fuck did that feel right.

“Congratulations, son. Congratulations.“ Dusty approached Dean and grabbed his shoulders in a fatherly way. “Someone turn the lights on, kids.“ The legend shouted and chuckled under the sudden tight hug Dean pulled him in. “That’s one of the best I’ve ever seen, and this old man has seen plenty!“ He patted Dean again on the back as he was let go and the young wrestler returned to his seat.

Dusty thanked the wrestler who turned the lights back on with a grinning nod and looked around the circle of chairs. “Any thoughts? Questions? We have the genius here to reply himself.“ Several hands raised up in the air. Dusty pointed towards one of the students, allowing him to talk.

“What the fuck was that? That was fucking _awesome!_ “ Dean burst into laughter when he looked over at the dark-haired man raising his voice. He was huge, built like a football player, which he probably was prior to joining FCW. From his olive-tan skin tone, prominent jaw, and wide nose, Dean assumed the guy came from some Samoan family with connections in the business. Said guy was shaking and looked like he couldn’t believe his eyes or ears.

Dusty joined in the chuckling. “Ambrose won’t even have to answer that; I’ll do it for him Leakee. That, my young friend, _is_ a fucking wrestling promo.“

The Hall of Famer went on to praise and analyze the video, Dean’s posture, voice and general delivery, going back to highlight some points and criticize others. He broke down every single moment, body expression, the structure of the promo.

Dean felt thankful that Dusty’s speech directed everybody’s questions away from him as he was blown away by the words he’d just heard. Nobody had ever spoken so highly of him; nobody had ever praised him in such a way.

When the class was declared done for the day, Dean went straight to thank Dusty and shake his hand. He couldn’t have a full conversation with him though as his phone started ringing. The veteran gave him an apologetic look as he answered the call.

Dean left the classroom and paced towards the locker room to fetch his bag and go home. He was exhausted and hungry, but he didn’t give a fuck. He felt warm and full from the feedback and admiration he’d received, and that would fool his body for a few more hours.

He almost bumped into one of the wrestlers when he opened the locker room door. It was the big Samoan-looking guy, Le-something. “That was awesome man!“ the big guy seemed to be in awe as he beamed at Dean. “I’m gonna learn so much from you…“ he offered his hand for a shake, and Dean accepted it gladly, feeling he would get along with this wrestler. “I’m Roman Leakee by the way, didn’t get a chance to introduce myself earlier.“

Dean grinned at the ridiculous name. “Dean Ambrose, hope I can see you in the ring soon!“

Roman patted his shoulder energetically. “You will! By the way dude, ya coming for lunch? Everybody’s heading to the restaurant already.“

Dean gulped, suddenly uncomfortable again and conscious of his situation. He couldn’t afford eating out and had to walk a long way back home while starving. While he owned a car, he couldn't afford gas to drive it. The newcomer sighed and looked down at his own feet. “Sorry man, but gonna have to pass today… didn’t bring any money.“

He looked up at the low chuckle that followed. “Hey, there’s no shame in having no money here, you think most of the guys can afford to pay for anything? Many live too far to go home then come back for the second session of the day.” the explanation made Dean feel a bit better. “Since we end up spending our whole days here, FCW has an agreement with a nearby bar. They feed us lunch every day to make sure we are eating properly and won’t pass out during training.“ He eyed Dean from head to toe and chuckled again. “You certainly look like you would bite the walls given a chance.“

Dean joined in the laughter when his empty stomach protested, his shoulders relaxing and a new optimism washing over him. “Sure, let them feed me then. Hope they give out good portions.“

Roman gave him a thumbs up. “Don’t worry, they’ll give you as much as you want, you can’t imagine the amounts some of us eat. It will also help you get to know the guys you’ll be fighting soon.“

“Cool then dude. Gonna pick my stuff then and I’ll go with you.“ Dean stepped into the room and looked around for his duffel bag. Once he picked it up and turned to leave, he almost ran into someone for the second time in a couple of minutes. This time it was an irritated Rollins, who stood in his way with a scowl on his flushed face and his glasses hanging low, his figure tense and his fists closed tight.

Dean raised an eyebrow in a silent ‘What the fuck,‘ not getting what that was about at first until he realized it had to do with the words in his promo, which should have hit home on the high flyer after their previous interaction. “Any problems? Is your interior diva offended by my promo or was it my talent?“

Seth’s nostrils flared and his chest visibly rose and sunk violently under his rough breathing. It was surprising that steam didn’t come out of them from the way he was seething. Dean snorted at the sight, getting no other reply than the brunette turning around and trying to storm out of the room for the second time that day. “Rollins!“ he called him out and smirked satisfied when the other stopped. “I was serious when I said you either stand up for the challenge or go fuck yourself. I’ve got no time for shit.“ he pondered his next words but decided to screw his former plans to avoid making enemies on his first day. “You are way too arrogant for someone who needs so much improvement.“

Rollins turned around slowly; his eyes narrowed as he glared at Dean with a mix of shame and frustration. “Fuck you.“ was the only thing he said before he finally left the room.

Dean cracked his neck and made his way out as well, shrugging at the amused look he received from Roman, whose eyes went from one wrestler to the other. “I take it you met that asshole already.“ he muttered as they started walking.

He devoured his generous lunch until he felt ready to explode and had a good time with the other guys at the restaurant. Dean’s day and general life seemed to be taking a turn for the better, and he couldn’t be any more grateful for it.

_Thursday, 19th May 2011_

_TV Taping at the FCW building, Tampa FL_

Soon enough, Dean learned that taping the show over one month in advance kept the production costs infinitely lower, allowing the episodes to be studied and edited with enough time between broadcastings. If anything needed to be repeated, they used the live events or other tapings in between to shoot it. It also helped Dusty and the wrestlers work on the upcoming shows, making any changes or improvements on what they were working on without the audience noticing.

Dean was invited to stay around to watch the show even if he wouldn’t take part on the tapings yet. Regal also told him he would finally make his debut on May 26th at a live event. It would be a squash against an inexperienced guy who would job for him, Monty Lynch. The only purpose for it would be introducing his heel character to the fans. Dean already knew the guy from training with the newbies and would have a full week to build the match with Lynch.

He wasn’t excited to have a quick squash with him as he’d already fought him in classes, knew it wouldn’t be a good match, not even a decent one. But his heart throbbed in delight at the thought that he would start leaving his mark in WWE for the first time there. He had an opportunity now, and he was going to squeeze until the last bit of it. It wouldn’t take long for everybody to know who Dean Ambrose was.

Sitting at the back with Johnny Curtis and Husky Harris, on a corner where the cameras would be most unlikely to catch him on video; Dean discretely adjusted his baseball cap and zipped up his hoodie, not too happy about the Florida heat.

They watched the whole taping of the show and how the matches and promos were shoot. A couple of producers gave instructions to referees and wrestlers regarding the booking and alerted them of any commercial pauses. They tried to hid their move calling from the fans, and the young wrestlers did their best to prove their worth during those matches.

Dean finally had a chance to see Leakee fight. The Samoan was undoubtedly awkward in the ring, and that was being _extremely_ nice in the judgment. He was green as hell, stiff and looked disoriented and out of place during his awful match against Ricardo Rodriguez, which he won. While Roman hadn’t uttered a word at all, Dean already knew he was a bad promo from the way he stood when he made his entrance, the tight expression in his face, the intense panic in his eyes as he looked at the fans. He meant it when he said he would learn a lot from Dean.

The match between Damien Sandow and Seth Rollins was a lot better.

Sandow was a good talker and made a decent introduction to the match before Rollins came out, showing off the FCW 15 Championship medal for the cameras to pick. Dean found it a good idea that the brunette didn’t cut a promo since he was awful at it and Damien had done his part perfectly.

Sandow was a big guy, really tall and broad yet not too defined. He could hang in the ring though and was obviously experienced, knew what he was doing. His slower, hard-hitting style meshed well with Seth’s flashiness, both selling a good story of an underdog babyface in peril against a cocky heel. The fifteen-minute match was nothing special, just entertaining and well executed until the bell rang and Rollins raised his hand in victory, still the champion. As soon as he made his way out the ring and approached the gorilla position, his face sobered again, dark brows frowning in irritation.

Dean didn’t feel like Rollins had a right to complain after such a match. It looked like Jimmy was right when he said he was a brat back when he called Dean to congratulate him for his signing. If there was something Dean knew, it was that he wouldn't tolerate that attitude no matter how good the other was in the ring. It only reinvigorated his desire to make the FCW locker room a better place, with better wrestlers. He was going to teach by example what being a star was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love that promo to pieces and couldn't NOT include it in this story; it was a damn perfect fit. It looks like things are starting to move now. The first classes are over, and Dean made some new friends (and an enemy as well) plus he will debut in a few days. :)
> 
> Don't forget you can still send me your ideas or requests for the side one-shot from Seth's POV that I will be posting around Christmas. Any part of this series that you'd like to see from his point of view? Any other moment in their WWE/FCW career you'd love him to tell you about? Don't be shy and ask. I may deliver. Or I may even save the idea for another story and write it for you if it inspires me enough ;)
> 
> So, what are your thoughts? As always, I love getting your comments and feedback and our talks about them, so please comment -comments are open for guests too-, tell me what you liked, what you hated, what you think will happen or anything you want to share. Remember you can always drop me a line on Tumblr (Besaster) if you want to and that I keep posting previews, updates and little random bits on the process of writing this mammoth of a series.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and see you very soon :)


	5. 26th May, 2011

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Ya may not know me yet but you will! My name is Dean Ambrose, and I hurt people." He began, allowing the fans to boo some more before he continued, projecting as much arrogance and vitriol as he could muster with his body language and voice.
> 
> Dean makes his FCW debut at a live show.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to a new update! I worked really hard for this chapter and hope you enjoy it. It was also a first for me since I've never written a match/fighting scene :)
> 
> Thanks for reading, enjoy the chapter!
> 
> NOTES:  
> WARNINGS: violence, drug use.  
> The lyrics mentioned belong to 'The Importance Of Being Idle' by Oasis.

_Thursday, 26th May, 2011_

_FCW Arena, Tampa FL_

Life felt good when one could focus on what he loved the most, afford up to two or three decent meals per day and drive around from time to time. If on top of that, a guy could enjoy his dose of booze and some tasty marijuana, Dean would catalog that as life being fucking great.

A joint rested between his lips, but he hadn’t bothered to lit it up yet. There was some twitchy unbound energy on his step, and enough money to feed his old car and buy a couple of beers after the live show in his pocket. Had anyone asked him, Dean would have said he couldn’t get any luckier.

He opened the driver’s door and dropped himself on the seat. The low, canned sound of the radio accompanied him as he drove towards the nearest gas station, a necessary stop before making his way towards the FCW Arena on a vehicle for the first time.

Dean had cashed his first check, his first FCW/WWE check as a signed wrestler and not a one night jobber. He received it the morning before, and most of the money was already gone, but he’d spent it as wisely as he was capable. Looking at the check had felt good; cashing it out, priceless.

Had he been one to wish, he’d also wanted to be able to rent an apartment; or at least afford something worthy of being called a room. Being evicted in the past and making a small yet soon to be steady income didn’t allow that for the moment.

Dean hummed some song he’d heard years ago as he drove, giving a low raspy answer to his thoughts. “ _But I don't mind… As long as there's a bed beneath the stars that shine- I'll be fine! If you give me a minute, a man’s got a limit. I can’t get a life if my hearts not in it…_ ”

Far sooner than expected, already used to the long way on his feet between the place he lived and the FCW building, he found himself parked in the building next to the arena. That allowed making it through the back unseen by the fans. Sucking on the barely touched weed stick, he gave himself a few minutes to prepare for his live show debut as he smoked and the drug mellowed his senses a bit, becoming slightly emotional for a moment.

The garage door at the back of the building was rolled up, a member of the crew keeping an eye on it to avoid any fans sneaking in. From his position inside the car, Dean saw some of his coworkers arriving, recognizing some of the guys from the promo classes. During the few minutes he peered at the entrance before leaving his car, he saw Big E Langston, Xavier Woods and Tito Colon arriving together. They were followed shortly by his opponent for the night, Monty Lynch. The last one to enter during his watch was Rollins, who, just like every single time Dean had seen him since he started training for FCW, wore his trademark snarl on his face like he was born with it.

Apparently, the guy had felt threatened, or humbled -probably both- by Dean’s promo skills and they hadn’t crossed a word since their encounter after the first promo class. He found it ridiculous that every time their paths or gazes crossed, Seth would glare at him and disappear as soon as possible. His decision to stay away from drama and bullshit hadn’t faltered, and he just didn’t have any interest in getting caught into it.

He had already heard stories from the other guys regarding how Rollins behaved around the locker room and wanted nothing to do with him. Judging by how he hadn’t seen anyone speak with the high flyer unless necessary, Dean suspected the roster in general despised him more than Seth despised them.

Still, he wanted to wrestle him. Prove how stars carry themselves inside and out of the ring. Seth’s attitude made him sick, and Dean felt like beating the living shit out of him for tainting the roster, but other than that, he didn’t really give a shit since every person worked for their own karma.

Dean would have given his life and part of another just to arrive at WWE a lot earlier, to have the company trust his talent and work ethic over his reputation. To be the one highlighted by the scarce media that covered the local wrestling promotion while carrying the championship; no matter how stupid the medal looked. But some people just didn’t appreciate the opportunities they were given.

 

After carefully stubbing out what was left of his joint to save it for later, Dean locked his car and marched towards the entrance to the training area in the FCW building. He nodded to the guy guarding the garage door and boldly went towards the locker room, taking a deep breath before opening the door and stepping inside.

Dean's gaze roamed around the room and quietly greeted some of the guys, stopping a bit longer to talk with the poor guy he was going to squash in his debut. He liked Monty; he was a nice guy who'd been trying to get better but lacked the talent to make it. But he respected his hard work and how humble he was.

From the moment their match was booked, Monty had reached out to Dean for advice and help, staying after their classes to keep practicing and even requesting to meet outside to work on the small promo he was going to deliver before Ambrose made his entrance. While not being how he preferred to spend the week, Dean was glad that the guy had such work ethic and never denied him any assistance. He was quite proud of the promo they wrote; it got the thumbs up from Dusty, so that was a little -if apparently meaningless-, success.

Their match would be the second of the night, so he didn’t want to waste any time on small chat with the others until he was done, didn’t want them to blow his bubble of focus.

Finding an empty spot to drop his stuff, Dean stripped down and stored the neat pile of clothes inside his bag. He slid into his compression underwear and a pair of generic black wrestling trunks on top. They hadn't given him a final design, but these were enough, all black with a touch of white on the small initials 'DA' printed on a side on the front.

Dean fitted his knee pads and sat down to lace his old boots up, a content sigh louder than intended escaping his lips as a smile crept up his lips. The excitement mixed with the drugs he hadn’t tasted in a few days had left him calm, in total peace. He was about to make his FCW debut and knew he would leave his mark from the first moment he stepped into the arena.

Gone were the times of wrestling at the indies, of having to risk his career and his life in every match because of the indie mentality of ‘ _why bother on trying to make it look like you’re hurting somebody if you can just hurt them?_ '.

He despised it, pro wrestling was art on itself, and it lost its meaning and performance purpose if it became an actual fight. How was he going to make it look good if a guy refused to sell unless legitimately hurt?

Dean looked up when he heard Big E, Raines, Cameron and Woods, already on their gears and warmed up, being called for their match. They would open the show on a match for the Tag Team Championship. Raines and Big E were the current champions and would retain their belts against the others.

His smile didn't falter as he stood up to start his own warm up and made a gesture for Lynch to join him. Dean's eyes caught the sight of Rollins sitting alone in his spot, already in his wrestling gear and wearing a hoodie, waiting. His match against Eric Rowan would be the main event of the night.

Seth's head was tilted back against the wall, his eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed but this time instead of a scowl he looked defeated, somewhat depressed. Music blasted from his headphones and for a small moment, relating to his frustration, Dean _almost_ pitied him.

Ambrose couldn't deny he was upset as well. Instead of unleashing his talent for everybody to enjoy, he was debuting against a jobber; training with guys who would never even make it to a tv taping.

Dean wanted the glory as well, knew how fucking good he was, knew he deserved to be at the top and only future wrestling legends. But being a bitch about his situation wouldn't make things any better. He was a humble guy after all and would have to remember that if needed every time frustration took over.

As if sensing the stare, brown eyes blinked open and narrowed in irritation in response to Dean's calm smile, which only broadened into an innocent grin to annoy Rollins further as he lifted a questioning eyebrow. He took it as his cue to leave the asshole alone, but somehow the suspicion that he would soon be in the same position only made him wonder if it was _that_ bad in FCW. It looked like he would have to watch some of the DVDs he’d been given to study his competition and see where he’d gotten himself into with his own eyes.

Tearing himself away from the bitter look directed his way, Dean turned his attention back to Monty. Both went over their segment after warming up and making sure their muscles looked pumped and nice before their entrance.

Once they were called to get to the gorilla position, he gave Rollins a last challenging look and found the high flyer staring at him, the scowl still set on his features.

Deciding to get the last laugh before leaving the locker room, Dean flashed a cocky smirk his way as he pointed his right hand towards the brunette, mocking him with a shooting gesture. It made Seth's expression transform immediately, brown eyes widening in surprise for a moment before he barked a loud, ridiculous laugh that followed Dean as he moved out, not looking back.

 

"The following contest is scheduled for one fall!" after the tag team champions celebrated their successful title defense and left the ring, Sonia the ring announcer introduced the next match. "Making his way to the ring, from Leeds, England, weighing at two hundred and thirty pounds, Monty Lynch!!"

Lynch was a big guy, broader than he was taller but naturally robust. He appeared nervous as he posed for the fans and walked towards the ring. As rehearsed, he asked Sonia for the mic and stood in the middle of the ring, ready for his babyface promo.

“For the last three years, I’ve dedicated my life to wrestling.” He started, taking a deep breath after the pause to control his voice as Dean had instructed. “I have done everything I’ve been told, trained every single day in the ring and the gym, I’ve begged for opportunities and tried to be taken into account and get _you_ , the fans, to notice me." He made another pause to look around at the crowd, his arm following the movement of his body. "And what do I get? Nothing. Night after night I see how opportunities are given to ungrateful scumbags that do nothing but overlook those of us who put on the extra effort and never get anything in return. Tonight things are changing for me though, I begged William Regal for an opportunity, and he granted it. FCW has made one of their big indie darling signings, and I will make him regret leaving the hole he came out from and finally get the respect I deserve in this company. So, _Dean Ambrose_ , stop wasting my time and come out here so I can show what awaits you in FCW!”

That was Dean’s cue. Just as the first note of his entrance theme hit, he stormed out of the gorilla position without paying any attention to the wrestlers surrounding the entrance so they wouldn’t miss his debut.

Dean stuck his tongue out to the fans, giving them looks full of hate at the same time he melted inside. It was his first real WWE appearance after all, and he was enjoying the sudden heat he was receiving from the audience. Most of the crowd didn’t know him at all, but some seemed to recognize him as Jon Moxley and were marking out in delight at the sight.

He worked quickly to replace the smile that tugged at the corners of his lips with an arrogant smirk when he saw between the attendants the man who pointed it the right direction to find the FCW building. With his children, he cheered happily with when he recognized Dean. He’d kept his promise to invite them to his debut and was happy to see them there.

Taking his black jean jacket off, Dean plainly ignored Lynch for a few moments as he ran between the ropes and glared at the fans, getting some deafening boos. So far so good.

He turned around as Sonia introduced him and walked circles around his opponent until the bell rang. He suddenly stopped, his body posture provoking and arrogant as he motioned Monty to come and hit him.

Lynch approached him and hit a big forearm against Dean’s chest. He didn’t sell it, just laughing out loud and balancing back slightly, his arms wide open as his eyes locked on the other wrestler’s and a mean chuckle could be heard. “Issat’ all ya got? Do that again!”

The fans booed, rooting for Lynch to punch the smirk off his face. Monty stepped forward again, this time hitting harder and getting the same result. The third time though, Dean’s knees flexed slightly and he quickly hooked his ankle around his opponent’s, making him fall on his back.

What followed was an animal attack. Dean jumped on top of Lynch and started hitting what looked like vicious punches that he made sure never actually touched his coworker. Lynch tried without success to pull him off, but Dean was an unleashed beast.

After the initial beat up, Lynch managed to throw him away. Retreating against a corner, Dean tried to catch his breath and was slammed against the turnbuckles again and again on the babyface's comeback. It had been surprisingly easy to convince Dusty that Lynch must have some offense during the match, he wanted to help the guy who was doing his best to make him look as good as possible in the same way.

Lynch grabbed Dean's arm and again hauled him into the middle of the ring, ready to hit a brutal forearm, but he moved out of the way; making him fall on his face one more time by playing dirty. Sitting on his lower back, he applied a painful looking chicken wing submission maneuver until Lynch pulled him off out of sheer strength. That was his cue to throw a quick kick to his stomach while he rose to his feet, drawing the much bigger man up on his shoulders before he delivered his Midnight Special finisher and pinned him for the _one, two, three_.

The fans booed mercilessly as his music hit, and Dean basked on the noise, his arms wide open and his palms up, provoking them to be louder as his head hung low with a proud lopsided smirk. He suddenly turned towards Sonia and approached her to take the microphone from her hand forcefully.

"Ya may not know me yet but you will! My name is Dean Ambrose, and I hurt people." He began, allowing the fans to boo some more before he continued, projecting as much arrogance and vitriol as he could muster with his body language and voice. "I don't give a damn who you are, who you know in this business or how good ya think you are. If you get in the ring with me, I'm gonna beat the trash out of you. In fact, I'll beat the crap out of anyone trying to stop me. I'm gonna turn this business upside down with my talent, and I don't give a shit what ya think of me, I will humiliate you anyway."

Someone threw an almost empty water bottle at him, and he picked it from the floor before emptying it over his head. "Thanks, bro, it's hot here!"

"Mr. Regal, I believe you didn't know what you were doing when ya hired me because I'm the best and worst that will ever happen to FCW." There were no cameras in front of him, but he carried himself like he was delivering a promo to hype a pay-per-view on live television.

“So, _Mr. Regal_ ," Dean's words came higher pitched, with an underlying violence that visibly made some of the youngest fans cringe. "Ya better give me some worthy competition, or I may end up dragging _you_ into the ring with me. And believe me, you don't want that." He slowly raised his fist to his lips and bit on his knuckles as he chuckled maniacally and the crowd lost their minds before he threw the mic to the floor and left the ring, taking his time on getting more heat from the fans as he strutted on his way back to gorilla.

 

As soon as he was out of the crowd's sight, Dean was crushed into a bear hug he didn't see coming. "That's our boy!! That's our boy!!" Dusty sounded delighted. "I'm so proud of you son, that was incredible. How do you feel?"

Dean tried to control his shaky breathing once he was released from the tight embrace, his eyes stinging and bright. He just grinned and gave the legend a thumbs up, the malice from his performance gone as he felt like a kid going to Disneyland.

A quick glance around the small area revealed Dusty wasn't the only one there. Besides a few staff members, William Regal stood there with a proud smile as well as most of the wrestlers who hadn't appeared yet onstage. Even Rollins was amongst them, a bit further at the back of the room, his ever-present scorn plastered on his face.

Dean shook Regal's hand and received another hug and words of praise. He also shook Monty's hand and patted his shoulder, proud of the effort pulled by the other man. They didn't have a good match by any means, but both had looked good during the five-minute squash.

Beating a big man on his debut had been an excellent introduction to the audience anyway, a little taste of what the former Jon Moxley could do.

Shaking some hands and crossing a few congratulatory words with the wrestlers gathered there, Dean felt in a cloud as his feet took him to the locker room.

Only the almost scalding water in the shower would witness the emotions taking over him as it settled that he'd made his official debut as an FCW wrestler.

Life felt fucking great, and he couldn’t get any luckier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 5 is already done with! *claps stupidly to herself* It was a challenging one, but at the same time, I was dying to write it. 
> 
> Remember I've been talking about my plans to write a little piece for Xmas from Seth's POV? It will be Part 3 of the ALAWKTT series and will be called 'Going Soft On Me?'. It should go live before Xmas. I haven't written it yet, but it's already planned and plotted, nagging me to get my hands on it. I'm not sure if it will come before or after chapter 6 of OSWIW, but both should be posted sometime over the next couple of weeks. I don't dare say earlier, but so far I've beaten all my planned deadlines so who knows?
> 
> Going back to this chapter, do you think Dean's positive and humble attitude is going to last? Will he be drawn into Seth's negativity? Will he work his way to become a leader on the roster? Neither? How will his life in Tampa and FCW continue? What about Seth, what happened for him to drop his asshole mode for a moment?
> 
> As always, I love getting your comments and feedback and our talks about them, so please comment -comments are open for guests too-, tell me what you liked, what you hated, what you think will happen or anything you want to share. Remember you can always drop me a line on Tumblr (Besaster) if you want to and that I keep posting previews, updates and little random bits on the process of writing this mammoth of a series.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and see you very soon :)


	6. 6th-9th June, 2011

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If it happens somewhere, somehow- if Seth Rollins faced Dean Ambrose, who would win? I already know the answer to that and deep down Seth Rollins does, too. But if he wants to erase any doubt in his own mind- that he’s as good as everybody thinks he is,” his eyes widened, thrown off balance for an instant at his intensity and the realization of how true his words were. “Then he’ll face me, one on one. In that ring.”
> 
> It's time for Dean's first tv taping and he's got a trick up his sleeve and a huge responsibility on his shoulders.

_Monday, 6th June, 2011_

_FCW Building, Tampa FL_

Just over a week and a half after his live show debut in FCW, Dean was still adjusting to sudden life turns for the better in the roller-coaster that was living in his skin.

He felt sore and exhausted on a daily basis from training with the newbies, even if he was starting to see a slight improvement in some of them. He was also growing impatient and restless, just wanting to be moved with the tv roster so he could genuinely start feeling that he was part of the promotion. Part of WWE.

Day after day, his routine felt like a broken record he was getting sick of. Dean gave his all on the painful training sessions, ate lunch at the nearby restaurant with everybody else and assisted to the afternoon promo lessons with the tv roster. Some days he would hang out after the classes with Roman Leakee and some other guys, but usually settled to going back home and crash on his uncomfortable mattress, drained to the point he would fall asleep with his shoes on more often than not.

It got more exciting when it was a show day, and he could wrestle actual matches, even if they weren’t exactly good. For the last two shows, Dean had squashed Kenneth Cameron, a jobber that he’d annihilated on quick matches for the fan’s delight and annoyance.

While he was happy to begin wrestling in front of an audience again, he felt on edge, desperate to move onto the bigger things he knew he deserved. That’s why Dean struggled to keep his frustration at bay when he stepped into the FCW building that Monday morning, barely able to stop himself from snapping at everything and everyone who dared cross his way.

Hours later, after taking a shower once the morning training session was over, sneaker-clad feet tapped a quick beat on the floor. Dean’s head was lolled forward as he chuckled silently, biting his lip hard enough to feel the area start to numb. He was sitting on a bench in the locker room, trying to process the new shift of his luck that took place earlier.

 

Dean had been taken aback when he was called out upon arriving by the receptionist, a jovial woman in her late thirties. She informed him that Dusty had ordered that he went directly to his office before the morning training session started to have a word with him.

A distinct uneasy feeling seized him. Why would the legend want to meet him so early and urgently? He started to fear that he’d been caught smoking week outside, or worse, that they had changed their mind about hiring him and would get fired first thing in the morning.

Dusty wasn’t alone in the office, but sharing a sugary breakfast, coffee, and tea over the meetings table with William Regal. That didn’t help calm down the rapid thumping of his heart. Regal’s words during their first meeting were still fresh on his mind, and Dean was afraid he’d fucked up already.

Both men beamed at his fidgety form. “Mornin’ son! Come sit with us,” said Dusty around a mouthful of toast as he pushed a big plate with bread, a bar of butter and a jar of orange-yellow jam. “Want some breakfast?”

Dean approached the table a took a seat, politely rejecting the food but eagerly taking the cup of coffee offered in silence by a smiling William Regal. “What did I do?” he asked bluntly, his gaze fixed on the steam coming from the mug as he nervously swung a teaspoon inside it.

He looked up when he heard the two men laugh in unison, Dusty slapping Regal’s arm. “Did you hear that William? We gonna have to keep an eye on this one, he looks like we’re about to fire him.”

Regal chuckled and served himself some more tea, shaking his head in amusement. “No need to worry, young lad,” a knowing smirk teased the corner of his lips. “You aren’t here to be fired, at least not today.”

Dean breathed out in relief, feeling his cheeks heat when his bosses laughed again. He took a sip of his coffee and gave them a perplexed look. “Then what the hell is going on? I almost had a heart attack right there.”

“I like this guy William; I like this guy!” Dusty appeared excited. “We called you here because we decided you will debut on tv this Thursday, and it’s gonna be big, son. Huge!” He looked at Regal, who nodded in agreement. “We’ve planned a nice little match against Hunico and a promo that will set your first feud.”

“We wanted to test the waters with you first though, know how you feel about your debut and start working on the creative process behind it.” The Englishman explained. “Vince gave us the thumbs up to experiment giving talent more creative freedom to refresh the product, and we feel you’re the best performer for us to test it.” He paused to take another sip of his tea.

Dean looked from one to the other, blinking in confusion. “What does that mean? Creative freedom in WWE, is that a fuckin' joke?”

Dusty nodded repeatedly. “Relative freedom. It will still have to pass Vince’s filter, but we got the okay to throw you directly into a big feud with a champion of your choice. Selling it to him will be on us.”

“What we want you to do is tell us how you’d feel about a feud with either Bo Rotundo or Seth Rollins. Pick between the FCW Heavyweight Championship or the FCW 15 title.” Regal continued. “We’ll also need you to keep quiet about it, as we want it to be a surprise and get organic reactions from everybody, test the chemistry out there. We can't make any mistake, or our project will go to hell, and there's no way we'll get approval for it again. That’s why you’ll continue training with the newbies for the time being. You’ll skip the wrestling training this morning and will just do a workout before lunchtime; we have a lot to talk about and don’t want to raise any suspicions.”

Dean felt his hairs stand up in excitement. An hour earlier, he’d been bothered by his lack of progression; now time had sped up, and he had the opportunity he’d been waiting for.

“We’re sure you’ll make the right choice Dean,” said Dusty with a fatherly smile. “So let’s get started and book all the details, I’m dying to hear your ideas.”

During the following two hours, Dean felt like life went back to run through his veins as they spoke about the current champions, discussed their wrestling and promo styles, and came up with a plan that would determine his future in FCW; and by extension, his career in WWE.

Not only was he going to make his tv debut, but he also had the opportunity he’d always wanted within his reach. Dean again thought he couldn’t get any fucking luckier.

He snapped out of his thoughts when some of the guys from the tv roster started to arrive in the locker room, leaving their belongings there before going to the restaurant for lunch.

Roman approached Dean, talking animatedly about the four-way match he would fight on the next tv show, to qualify to be the first contender for the FCW Heavyweight championship. He was saying something about Johnny Curtis booked to go over, but Dean wasn’t listening anymore. His eyes caught sight of the eternally sulking Rollins stepping into the locker room, and he couldn’t keep himself from laughing openly at the sight of him.

While Seth didn’t even look at him, Dean noticed his posture tensed even more than usual and his scowl deepened, which only made his challenging stare more taunting in turn until he left the room. It just made him laugh harder, ignoring the confused looks Roman, and some of the other guys threw his way.

Things were getting interesting, and only he knew what was going on. He planned to enjoy every second of it.

_Thursday, 9th June, 2011_

_FCW Arena, Tampa FL_

Dean had been oddly calm and peaceful for the last three days, yet he felt every fiber of his body vibrating with energy at the same time. He’d suddenly become more patient with the newbies, even going as far as to make some small interaction with them.

To have a real wrestling and rehearsing session the morning before with Hunico had helped matters immensely. The Mexican-American was talented, fast and wrestled a refreshing, heavy hitting Lucha style that meshed well with Dean’s. It kinda reminded him of his time in Puerto Rico. While he didn’t really remember much of it because of how high and out of his mind he was back at the time; he had some entertaining matches. He had no complaints at all that his first televised appearance would be fun and competitive, if a bit short.

Already in his wrestling gear, he paced around the locker room, raking his hands through his hair and feeling anticipation get the best of him. He had a huge responsibility and it made him both anxious and proud that Dusty and Regal trusted him to start something this big on his debut day. Out of the three tv shows they were taping that night, he was set to deliver a promo at ringside during the pause between the first and second show. There’d be a pause for the fans to buy some drinks and merch while the crew got everything ready for the next taping.

His debut match against Hunico would take place after the opening tag team match on the second show, and he couldn’t wait for it. It would be the most important night of his career so far, the one that would determine his career’s direction in WWE and he knew he had to exceed all expectations. He _knew_ he would. All Dean could hope is that everybody else was able to meet the bar he was going to set that night, as he was going to start a new era and a new concept of what WWE developmental meant, even if he wasn’t fully aware of what it implied at the moment.

Some of the guys were warming up in the hall while others waited patiently, listening to music, checking their phones or rehearsing their lines and moves before it was their time to perform.

Dean looked around and threw a sardonic smile to Rollins, who as usual was sitting on his own on a bench with music blasting on his headphones and a frown on his face. His coworker held his gaze this time, his sneer unfaltering and his chin up, defiant as he held onto his FCW 15 Championship medal.

The bastard certainly had no idea of what was coming his way. While Dean didn’t care about his bullshit, Seth’s attitude had been ridiculous and irrational for the last few weeks, refusing to even speak to him since that first promo class. The few looks he threw his way were always a mix of curious and angry, and something else that Dean hadn’t bothered to analyze, but that felt like fear.

So while not giving a fuck about his bullshit, the more childish Rollins became, the more enjoyment Dean found on annoying him by setting an example in the locker room of how a star should behave.

Messing his hair a bit after pouring some water over his head, Dean took a couple of steps forward, determined to entertain himself further by riling Rollins up some more before it was his turn to appear onstage.

He didn’t have a chance to continue the game though, turning around when he heard his name being called by Joey Mercury and rushing to put on his dark denim jacket. It was his time to take WWE’s developmental to a whole new level. Had Dean been aware of how accurate those words _truly_ were, he’d bought a leather jacket instead.

Dean bounced anxiously towards the gorilla position, ready to deliver his promo.

In the end, they were forced to tone it down a notch since WWE wouldn’t approve the original content due to being too violent for the PG environment. He was happy with the result though and had been allowed to stay away from any scripts, getting full freedom of speech as long as he kept himself from swearing and followed the bullet points agreed with Dusty.

Only a few people knew what was going to happen next, and not even the interviewer knew what he was going to say or do, just that he would challenge someone from the roster. They’d given him an introduction concocted by both Regal and Dusty, told him to exaggerate his reactions a bit, and that was it.

 

Briley Pierce, the ringside interviewer, was already in his position near the ring, waiting for Dean to arrive so they could start shooting.

Taking a deep breath, Dean went into character before he confidently walked out of the gorilla position and towards Pierce. Once there, he started throwing disdained looks to the crowd and Briley himself, even if he knew cameras weren’t rolling yet.

Pierce started talking, visibly unnerved by Dean’s twitching and almost demented performance as he introduced him to the tv audience. “Dean, I have to be honest, just standing next to you makes me feel a little bit nervous.” His hesitation, while obviously performed, had a pinch of real uneasiness behind. “What are your plans here? What do you want to do in FCW?”

Dean reached up to curl his fingers around Pierce’s skull, shaking his head around roughly and quickly turning toward the camera, challenging and full of confidence. “The question burning in everybody’s mind for years.” He let go of the interviewer’s head and tilted his head to the side, his eyes narrowing as he bore a hole through the camera. That’s where it stopped being a promo and became a real call out.

“If it happens somewhere, somehow- _if_ Seth Rollins faced Dean Ambrose, who would win? I already know the answer to that and deep down Seth Rollins does, too. But if he wants to erase any doubt in his own mind- that he’s as good as everybody thinks he is,” his eyes widened, thrown off balance for an instant at his intensity and the realization of how true his words were. “Then he’ll face me, one on one. In that ring.”

Pierce looked genuinely shocked as well but was quick enough to recover and make up an answer. Maybe he wasn’t as stupid as he looked after all. “So, that’s it? Right off the bat, you’re going to challenge the FCW 15 champion? I mean, isn’t that a little bit unusual?”

Dean sneered at him, staring right into his eyes. “You gotta understand. I’m a trend-setter, I am a difference maker!” He turned towards the camera again, unleashing the frustration and anger he’d carried through his whole career to make his message heard. “ _I_ didn’t get here by following anyone’s lead; _I_ didn’t come here to fit into anybody’s mold. As of right now, be ready to forget what you think you know about FCW and this industry, cause Dean Ambrose is about to blow the doors off everything!” he stormed toward the gorilla position, snarling at the fans on his way out.

Once he was out of their sight, he punched the wall, desperately needing to release the pent-up energy still left in him. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths to calm down his heartbeat and slowly began to notice his surroundings and the movement on the back. 

Dusty was there, beaming and commenting the promo excitedly, as well as the wrestlers set to open the second show for the tag team match. Joey Mercury and Rollins were also there, the older wrestler trying to calm Seth down in front of one of the screens.

The moment Rollins noticed Dean was there, he rushed toward him, pushing him back with his fists against his chest and seething. “Fuck you!” he spat. “Who the fuck do ya think you are? How the fuck did ya convince management to do that to me?” Seth’s mouth gaped open when he realized Dean was laughing at him. “Ya find it funny? What, they promised you my title? Are you all laughing at me behind my back?”

Dean was barely able to block the punch directed to his face. He pushed Rollins’s arm aside and immediately bent over with laughter. It appeared to unsettle his coworker even more, and hadn’t Rollins been such an asshole; Dean would have pitied him as he stood there speechless, looking lost and confused. 

“Oh my god dude, you’re even stupider than I thought,” he struggled to say as he wiped a tear from his eye, trying to tone down his laughter but unable to keep it less than a snigger. 

It took Dean a few moments under Seth’s shocked gaze to recover and be able to sober up. “Didn’t ya learn anything from it? You could have done that instead of going into a paranoid conspiration rut.” He smirked when he saw his future opponent’s eyes widen and his lips part a few times hesitantly, but no sound was coming from them. “If ya think just doing some cool flippy shit makes you a solid wrestler, I’ll remind you what I told ya my first day here. I raise the bar wherever I go. You either get on board with it; kick your ass to make yourself a real fuckin’ wrestler or ya can go fuck yourself.”

Rollins clenched and released his fist repeatedly, a flash of hurt crossing his flushed features but no other reaction coming through other than that.

As soon as Dean heard the music playing again and the show back to taping, he walked past Rollins and made his way to the locker room without giving him another look. He didn’t want to waste one more second with him before his debut match, which would start in a few minutes. He didn’t miss the hissed ‘ _Fuck you_ ’ behind him.

He’d already made an impression through his mic work; now it was time to make his statement with his in-ring abilities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just when things were getting interesting... I apologize for cutting right there! I didn't want to end up editing a +5K chapter so we'll get Dean's wrestling tv debut and more in chapter 7.
> 
> This week was a productive writing one for sure because, in case you didn't see it, I also posted Part 3 of ALAWKTT!! 'Going Soft On Me?', the not-so-little Xmas fic from Seth's POV is also up. I made sure it didn't spoil or rush OSWIW too much, so it's safe to read it :)
> 
> It looks like Seth REALLY can't stand Dean... what do you think? Do you think Dean is aware or ready for what's coming? I keep adding real stuff (transcripted Dean's promo), but will there be more reactions from Seth behind the cameras? Will those two be able to get along before their first match? I'm loving writing this stage, as it's setting up 'their story' so everything can flow going forward.
> 
> As always, I love getting your comments and feedback and going back and forth with you about the story, so please comment -comments are open for guests too-, tell me what you liked, what you hated, what you think will happen, ask me any questions nagging your mind or anything you want to share. Remember you can always drop me a line on Tumblr too (Besaster) if you want to and that I keep posting previews, interviews and interesting bits from their past as well as updates and random stuff on the process of writing this mammoth of a series.
> 
> I'll be back very soon with chapter 7. Until then, thanks SO much for reading and hope you have a merry AmbrolliXmas! Xx


	7. 9th June, 2011

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a few minutes of tense silence, Rollins looked down at him again, his usual scowl replaced by something different. Dean wasn’t sure if it was shame, fear, confusion or a mix of them all. 
> 
> “How do you do it, Ambrose?” His voice was soft and strained, sounding like words left him against his will.
> 
> Dean has his first FCW televised match.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Recreational drug use (marijuana).

_Thursday, 9th June, 2011_

_FCW Arena, Tampa FL_

Dean had barely passed through the door inside the locker room when he felt a firm hand on his shoulder. He turned around to meet Joey Mercury’s satisfied smile. “Dean, great job out there, it was awesome! Our diva is losing his mind,” mischief danced in his dark eyes.

Still feeling the high from the intense promo he’d just delivered, Dean winked at him. “That was my intention all along. He can either stand up to the challenge or be humbled.”

Mercury nodded, pointing backward with his thumb. “And stand up he did. The plan is flowing Dean. As soon as you ignored him, he went to Dusty demanding an interview segment. He’s pissed as fuck; you should come see it, they’re gonna tape it during commercials.” Joey peered into the room and lifted a hand. “Hunico! Time to come out, your match is next.” He shouted and beckoned Dean to go after him.

Dean scratched the back of his head as he followed the veteran wrestler. “Well, if he’s so riled up, don’t you think I should just annoy him some more while he’s at it?”

Mercury grinned, giving him a thumbs up. “That’s _exactly_ what Dusty wants. So, what do you have in mind?”

Dean tented his hands as he did a small rotatory dance with his shoulders that swung his whole body, knowing he was the pure image of malice. “Just watch Joey, ya gonna love it.”

 

Dean traced his steps back and scurried towards the opposite direction of the hall, to the lobby area. All the fans were in their seats already, so he didn’t run into anyone on his way to the fan’s entrance.

He waited there until he heard the music indicating the show had gone to commercials again.

Pushing the door ajar, he caught a glimpse of Briley Pierce on his interviewing spot, exchanging some words with a sulking Rollins. Dean saw the cameraman approaching them while Dusty seemed to organize the scene and gave Rollins a thumbs up.

Rollins lifted his championship medal against his chest, holding his arm in place by crossing the other underneath, obviously trying to hide the slight shaking of his body. He stood with his chin up, a baseball cap shadowing his eyes, biting the inside of his cheeks as he swayed lightly on his feet and the fingers behind the medal fidgeted.

Dean watched Rollins lick his lips and breathe deeply, failing to hide his shock as he snarled around at the crowd teasing him. So far it was perfect, he had gotten a genuine reaction from Rollins and things were taking a turn for the funnier. Now it was time to see if he was smart enough to stand up for the challenge.

He was expectant to see what Dusty and Rollins had come up with for a response in such a short time, wondering if his opponent would be able to surprise him the way he had minutes before.

“Seth, as the FCW champion you’ve been undefeated since you won the title in January,” trailed Pierce. “But the question in everybody’s minds out there in the FCW universe is: what about Dean Ambrose?”

At the mention of Dean’s name, Rollins finally acknowledged Pierce, huffing and glaring at him. A lopsided smile set on Pierce’s lips, the guy knew what he was doing and was probably aware this would be added to a future show as they built the feud in the production room. Dean was impressed by this since Briley didn’t look too bright. He made a mental note to keep pushing the guy to get some more good tv moments.

“Ambrose has been calling you out the last few weeks, challenging you for that title. Now, what is your response to this guy?” Rollins looked down and chewed the inside of his cheek, snarling like he could kill someone right there.

Lifting his chin and looking down at Pierce again, Rollins finally spoke. “With all due respect to Dean Ambrose, I know he has accomplished a lot all over the world, and in a short time here in FCW. But he’s not my focus,” he spat, his voice higher pitched than usual and slightly shaky. Rollins nearly shoved his title in the interviewer’s face.

Focused on what he was saying, Rollins didn’t seem to notice the uncomfortable switch in Pierce’s expression as Dean approached from the side, carefully out of the camera’s range and doing his best not to burst out laughing.

“Briley, this is my focus right here. I’m concentrated on defending the FCW 15 Championship. And you know what? This- this title means-” the crowd started cheering and clapping, making Rollins rush slightly. “It means that I’m destined for greatness, not only here, but-” he stopped abruptly when the crowd started chanting Ambrose’s name, slowly turning around and frowning, looking down at Dean as he stepped into the camera range.

Dean stood behind his opponent; his eyes fixed on Seth's as he tilted his head slightly and gave him a quizzical, derisive look. He played around the mix of anger and humiliation emanating from Rollins, the rapid rise of his chest, wondering if he would throw a temper tantrum right there or if he’d have a violent reaction. Any would do to lit up the feud.

As a last provocation, he stepped back slowly, never giving his back to Rollins, his gaze never leaving his. Dean bit his lip once he was out of sight for the viewers at home, trying not to laugh at the anxious way Rollins licked his lips and swallowed thickly.

Back to the fan’s entrance, he finally chuckled, watching his opponent look down and exhale a heavy sigh, unable to add anything else to his promo before shaking his head and the music blasting through the tv set to end the segment.

Once Dean was back in the lobby, Mercury was waiting for him, a proud look on his face. “This is gonna be great!” he exclaimed, giving him a one-armed hug and patting his back enthusiastically. “It couldn’t have gone any better! I don’t wanna have to deal with him now though, that’s gonna be rough.”

Both burst out laughing, making their way back to the hall to get back to the gorilla position and give way to Dean’s first televised FCW match.

Once there, Dean barely caught the glassy look in his humiliated eyes as Rollins rushed past him like he wasn’t even there, but he would once they went over the interview on an upcoming promo lesson.

 

After the taping of both promos, the fans were on fire when Dean made his entrance for his match against Hunico. During his usual taunting to the crowd as he approached the ring, he winked at the man who helped him find the building on his first day, who again made it to the show with his kids invited by Dean.

The match against Hunico was surprisingly entertaining if a bit short yet it did what it was supposed to do, put him over and introduce Dean as a big deal on the roster.

Their styles meshed well, while the Luchador was unusually big and heavy for his wrestling style, he could easily be carried into an exciting match and put on a good fight against Dean’s physical, frantic pace, and violent ways.

Once it was over and Dean’s hand raised as the winner, he picked up a mic and stood in the middle of the ring, staring through the camera and screaming Seth’s name dramatically, a bit too much perhaps. He was on edge after his debut match and seeing how the crowd was eating the feud up so eagerly got to him. He _knew_ he was killing it.

“Seth Rollins, I know it bothers you that deep down you know. You can’t beat me. I know it bothers you. And no matter how many championships you won here, no matter how much your fans believe in you, until you step into the ring with me your career is meaningless. You are a question mark!” he shouted, sounding as confident and threatening as he could on FCW’s PG environment. “I came to FCW to hunt you down, Rollins, to embarrass and break you, to drill your skull into this FCW canvas. You can’t run forever, Seth.”

After screaming his lungs out and crashing around the ring, he glanced towards the announcer's area, taking in William Regal’s beaming figure and swallowing hard as he did his best to snarl at the excited fans on his way out.

Dean had barely walked into the gorilla area when a delighted Dusty rushed toward him, embracing him tightly. “Good job son, what an impression! Way to kick off the feud, the crowd ate it up!”

Dean’s heart threatened to jump out of his chest. He clung to the legend, unable to get rid of the lump in his throat and the sting in his eyes as the adrenaline rush dissolved into unbound emotion. “Hey, ya’ gotta be proud of yourself kid, I’m so proud of you,” Dusty reassured knowingly, letting the suddenly young kid shake and process the fact his moment had come.

Finally, he had officially debuted in FCW, had gotten himself into a feud that would change the history of WWE’s developmental system, and was being praised by two of his idols. 

He couldn’t get any fucking luckier than that.

Slow and uncharacteristically flushed, Dean let go of Dusty, sniffling softly as he rubbed his eyes as dry as he could. He approached Hunico, who was still there and gave him a quick brotherly hug, happy about how everything had gone. Neither the match or the promos could have gone any better.

Both left the gorilla position after shaking hands with Husky Harris and Lucky Canon, who were ready for their match. Back into the locker room, they commented the segment with the wrestlers left in there. Roman Leakee, Johnny Curtis, and Mason Ryan listened excited, sharing their enthusiasm about their upcoming four-way match, the main event of the night.

Rollins was the fourth contestant in said match, but he was nowhere in sight. Dean chuckled at the thought of the tantrum he must be throwing somewhere at poor Joey Mercury, wondering if the veteran wrestler would ask for a salary raise after dealing with the problematic brat.

Just a couple minutes after his arrival to the locker room, the three wrestlers rushed out for the main event. Husky Harris’s match had only been a quick jobber squash and was over almost before it started.

After exchanging a few more words with Hunico, Dean felt his body float toward the shower area, still tingling and slightly shaky after the rush of emotions he’d lived through that night.

Had he been an honest man, Dean would have admitted that he cried like a child as the stream of hot water in the shower washed away sweat and tears.

But you’re _not_ a liar if nobody can call you out on it. 

He had no idea back then that it would become a shield he’d use too often for years to come.

 

Dropping the empty can of beer he’d shared with Joey Mercury inside Dusty’s office as he exited the room, Dean’s body felt heavy, completely exhausted and sore but his chest felt warm, and his heart thumped loudly.

He slowly let his feet drag him towards the training room, using the back garage door to leave the building even if all the fans had long abandoned the arena. How long had he been talking with Mercury?

Roman caught up with him just as Dean stood outside under the exterior building lights, feeling the humid night air licking his face and enjoying the peace settled in his mind.

Dean listened to Roman talking about his match; claiming he somewhat enjoyed it but felt extremely self-conscious about his performance, knowing and admitting he was still too green to even be on television. Leakee listened to Dean’s advice intently, grateful to absorb as much knowledge as he could from somebody with as much experience and talent as him.

Biting his tongue, Dean didn’t know what to say after Roman insisted that he was dying to be able to train with him and be able to improve and learn from him. Apparently, he’d been watching some of Dean’s old promos and matches online and spoke of him and his performances with sincere admiration.

Dean didn’t know how to react to that. He wasn’t used to as much praise as he’d received during his short tenure in FCW. He tried to sound as reassuring as he could, but inside his mind, Dean was just wondering how long it would take for the Samoan to get bored of playing being a wrestler and go back to football, move into reality shows or something similar. His performances had been almost painful to watch as far as he’d seen and he didn’t see any talent in the guy, even if he admired his effort and determination.

He never had the heart to say this to his face though, since he enjoyed their tentative start of a friendship. So he settled for a change of topic and asked him about Rollins; who just like he expected, had been an angry mess during the match.

Roman told him between chuckles how the high flyer had even botched a few moves through the match, having a couple of painful landings and working way stiffer than usual.

Joking some more about FCW’s annoying diva, they finally parted after Dean declined the invitation to get some beers with the guys and he paced towards his car, again parked a few buildings further down the road.

Leaning back against the seat of his old car, Dean’s eyes fluttered closed. He had no idea of how long he stayed like that, breathing deeply and feeling the comforting caress of the summer night breeze passing through the window.

When he opened his eyes, he reached out for his cigarette pack, taking out the already rolled joint he’d kept there with shaky hands and fumbling to light it up. It was a strange sensation because he felt at peace, he felt good. Proud. It had been one of the most important nights in his life, and it couldn’t have gone any better.

Tilting his head back and shutting his eyes again, he parted his lips slightly for the smoke to leave them but not enough for the joint to fall off them as he cracked his fingers.

Dean enjoyed the taste and smell in the quiet of the night, barely aware of his surroundings as he kept his eyes closed. He was startled by a sudden noise and someone snatching the joint away from his lips.

Hitting his elbow against the steering wheel as he reacted, Dean almost jumped out of the car’s window but fell back onto the seat in shock at the sight.

Rollins stood there balancing on the balls of his feet, sucking on the weed like his life depended on it. He was visibly shaking and flustered from what looked like pure shame. “Dontcha dare say a fuckin’ word, I need it more than you do right now,” he hissed, raising a warning fist.

Dean blinked, speechless. The last thing he’d expected was having his peaceful moment with himself interrupted by his opponent, let alone have his celebratory joint taken from him.

“My car’s parked there,” Rollins' finger pointed to the next building as his frown loosened slightly. “Smelled it on my way there. Haven’t gotten my hands on anything to smoke in over a week.”

Realization suddenly hit Dean. He’d heard some of the guys snickering a few days ago during lunchtime, bragging about how they had managed to get Rollins banned from their usual dealer. He wasn’t lying about being out of weed.

Dean just sat there and watched Rollins smoke, hearing his ragged breathing and unsure of what to say while the other looked away from him, gaze fixed on his own car. At the moment Dean didn’t feel like talking about their beginning feud and was not in the mood to keep taunting him either.

After a few minutes of tense silence, Rollins looked down at him again, his usual scowl replaced by something different. Dean wasn’t sure if it was shame, fear, confusion or a mix of them all.

“How do you do it, Ambrose?” His voice was soft and strained, sounding like words left him against his will.

Dean snorted, he had expected an insult or threats, not a question out of nowhere that he wasn’t even sure of what it meant. “What?” he teased, trying not to let the other take him by surprise again. “I broke down some weed; then I mixed it with tob-”

“Fuck you,” there it was again, the trademark snarl had taken a bit to make its appearance. Rollins shook his head in disbelief and reached up to tighten the bun keeping his hair off his face. “I meant what you did out there, that promo shit. How did ya learn to do that?”

Tilting his head to the side, Dean examined him. Rollins looked serious and seemed to be asking a legitimate question. 

He shrugged and flashed him a grin. “Well, it’s easy. It’s a mix of natural charisma and just translating whatever the fuck I feel into my wrestling character.”

Rollins looked puzzled, bewildered even. He leaned into the car’s window and propped a forearm on it, looking directly into Dean’s eyes as he took another puff at the joint. “Don’t give me that shit,” he muttered as he offered the stick back to Dean, who just noticed how worn out Rollins looked and the swollen purplish lump on his cheek covering half his face. “I believe anyone can achieve any goal if they put enough effort into it.”

Dean stared at him in shock for a moment and burst out laughing, swatting Seth’s hand away. “Dude, then ya gonna have to put the effort of your fuckin’ life into it. For someone so good in the ring, you’re a damn pain to listen to. Even worse out of the ring, grow a fuckin’ pair of balls kiddo.” He dodged a punch thrown his way, still chuckling. “Ya can keep that, I’ve got more, and it looks like you need it more than me tonight.”

The scowl was gone from Rollins’ face and was replaced by something Dean couldn’t recognize. He made a gesture for Dean to pass him a lighter and lit the joint again before taking a step back. “Ya know, Dusty’s told me about his plans for our feud and shit, but still you all can go fuck yourselves.”

Dean watched him limp as he made a beeline toward his car, wondering just how bad the bumps he took during the four-way match were.

He'd been correct when he’d claimed in his promo that Rollins was a question mark.

On his drive back home, he gave it some more thought and kept thinking of different ways to push their feud to the moon and back. They needed to find a way to work together and not fuck up the opportunity of their lives. He knew he needed Rollins to cooperate whether he wanted or not. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It feels like I've been saying that things are moving forever, and it's true even if it doesn't feel like it! :) I'm excited about the things that are about to come and how close I am to finally get to write some of the stuff I sketched out on my notes back when I was writing 'Overwhelmed' and planning out how this whole series would happen. 
> 
> Since we're still on Xmas time, in case you didn't see it, I posted Part 3 of ALAWKTT!! 'Going Soft On Me?', the not-so-little Xmas fic from Seth's POV. I made sure it didn't spoil or rush OSWIW much, so it's safe to read it :)
> 
> What are your thoughts about OSWIW so far? The only benefit I get out of writing this is my own enjoyment and (hopefully) yours, so please feel free to let me know what you think -comments are open to guests too-! What you liked, what you didn't or hated, what you think will happen or anything you want to share with me. Are there any parts of their story you'd REALLY want to see through this series? Let me know, I may deliver at some point! 
> 
> Remember you can also drop me a line on Tumblr (Besaster) if you want to and that I keep posting previews, updates, old FCW interviews and pics, and little random bits on the process of writing this mammoth of a series. 
> 
> Thanks for staying with me, see you very soon :)


	8. 22nd June, 2011

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t you ever dare talk to me like that again though, I won’t hesitate to take you out of the picture and make you a fuckin’ jobber until you’re released, and your career will never recover from that. Am I clear?”
> 
> Regal and Mercury surveyed the scene gravely, with such disappointment Dean cringed inside. “Not only that, but you’re also gonna start working on your promos and will treat everybody else with respect. You’re not the big deal you think you are and we can easily replace you. WWE has enough money to hire any indie star they want with as much potential as you and pit them against Ambrose for our plan. We’re gonna make sure you get it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last update of the year! I doubt I'll manage to get anything else up before New Years so I'll wish you all a happy 2018 in advance! :)
> 
> WARNINGS: recreational drug use, alcohol.

_Wednesday, 22th June, 2011_

_Classroom, FCW Building, Tampa FL_

One month into his FCW run, with only one tv show on the books, Dean already looked forward to the Wednesday the week before shooting.

The usual class structure was thrown out of the window, and the whole tv roster attended a lengthy meeting with Dusty, Regal, Mercury, and Prichard to plan the next taping session.

Once all the wrestlers — women’s division included — took their seats, they were handed a stack of photocopies with the taping schedule for the three shows they'd record the next Thursday. Those started with a list of wrestlers summoned to appear on tv and a breakdown of the whole card, results, and promo segments.

The next few pages were broken down show by show and segment by segment, with bullet points and some ideas for each. Finally, at the end of every segment, there was a short note describing its purpose. Some where as simple and direct as ‘ _filler segment_ ,’ ‘ _get X wrestler over/push X wrestler_ ,’ ‘ _create heat for X_ ,’ or ‘ _advance X feud_.’ Other notes were more elaborate, like the one at the end of Dean’s segment and match, which stated ‘ _build Ambrose as a psycho in-ring beast + add heat to his feud with Rollins_.’

Dean suspected Regal was the one putting the sheets together. The legend was methodical, with a cold and calculated approach to wrestling and how everything should be booked. Dusty was the opposite; all feeling and intuition regarding performances and staying away from all kind of thoughtful planning. The two of them putting the shows together made for a powerful combination, and the card looked exciting from a fan’s point of view.

They were given a few minutes to go over the whole thing as they sipped on coffee; a welcome treat since the meetings took place after lunchtime.

Next came a debriefing where Regal and Mercury would go over the booking, stopping at the end each segment’s instructions to give an explanation on their purpose and what they expected from the performers and Dusty would talk about the psychology of each and the promo segments. Before moving on to the next, the students would give their feedback and collectively brainstorm ideas to make the scene better.

Everybody devoted their full attention during the session, and the only sound in the background was the scribbling down of anything the wrestlers didn’t want to forget about or any doubts they wanted to comment during the lessons before the show.

 

Dean’s match would take place during the first show of the evening against Tito Colon in yet another short but competitive display from both wrestlers. Regal looked extremely pleased as he went through how they envisioned the psychology of it, with Dusty continually butting in to add more about the booking and what he expected wrestling wise.

“By the end of the match,” Dusty explained like he was seeing the whole scene playing before his eyes. “You must have been so aggressive, ruthless! Fans should be feeling sorry for Tito _, and_ worry about what’s coming to Rollins when you finally get your hands on him.”

A huff, unmistakably by Rollins cut through the otherwise silent room and Regal chuckled, nodding slowly. “Exactly.” Regal continued. “We want to see a psycho out there; you must terrify anyone coming your way and make it look like there’s no escape from you. There’s no way to fight you off because nobody can guess what you’ll do next, not even yourself.”

Dean gave them a thumbs up, grinning like a dork. “I can do that. Rollins’s gonna shit his pants the next time he sees me.”

Everybody except Rollins burst into laughter. “Fuck. Ya all!” He shouted, standing up from his chair, his eyes narrowed, and his lip curled up as his gaze scanned everybody and stopped at Dean. “Ya think it’s funny?! Now what, ya plan on booking me like a fuckin’ pussy running away from this asshole? Have ya lost your fucking mind?” He turned toward Dusty with a defiant pose, his glasses hanging low on his nose and the finger pointing toward the legend visibly trembling.

Dusty held his belly as he laughed, shaking his head in amusement. “ _This_ is what I want from you, son,” he said still chuckling. “Don’t ya see? Ambrose is gonna haunt you and break you, take the best out of you. We need you to show all this temperament out in the arena, make the fans see how it’s affecting ya until you both end up clashing in the ring. When that happens, I’m just hoping you guys have chemistry there; because if you do, it’s gonna be huge. If you don’t, we’ll drop the feud quickly and move you into other things.” He paused, his expression suddenly harsh. “Don’t you ever dare talk to me like that again though, I won’t hesitate to take you out of the picture and make you a fuckin’ jobber until you’re released, and your career will never recover from that. Am I clear?”

Regal and Mercury surveyed the scene gravely, with such disappointment Dean cringed inside. “Not only that, but you’re also gonna start working on your promos and will treat everybody else with respect. You’re _not_ the big deal you think you are and we can easily replace you. WWE has enough money to hire any indie star they want with as much potential as you and pit them against Ambrose for our plan. We’re gonna make sure you get it.”

Rollins gasped, dropping back in his seat. He looked hurt and ashamed, his gaze down and, for once, no comeback leaving his lips as he clenched his fists so hard that little droplets of blood slid down his skin. “Don’t you dare make me regret putting the future of WWE’s developmental system and WWE itself in your fucking hands. I can’t believe you don’t see the full picture yet, kid.” Dusty’s tone had softened, and he sighed deeply, shaking his head and looking around the classroom.

Upon hearing the last words, Rollins looked up again, but there was no defiance this time, just a young boy trembling in fear and realization. It seemed like nobody had informed Seth of the actual importance of this feud and _now_ Dusty had said the magical words. Dean wondered if this all was done on purpose. The small smirk stretching Regal’s mouth was a good enough hint to believe so.

While wholeheartedly agreeing with every single word Dusty said, Dean wasn’t expecting such a threat and behavior from Dusty, his mouth agape at the words he was hearing and the responsibility they added to his shoulders. He wasn’t stupid and was sure the man hadn’t gotten so far just from being nice, and that settled an uneasy feeling in his stomach. He didn’t want to ever be on the receiving end of such treatment.

He was the other half of the feud, the other person not only Dusty, but WWE was trusting the whole company’s future with. As fulfilled and proud as he felt about it, it was also terrifying, and Dean felt his confidence begin to crumble.

They quickly moved on to talk about the next segment, but the rest of the remaining session felt awkward, the air filled with tension and uneasiness from all the attendants.

A couple of hours later and after the meeting was over, some of the wrestlers stayed in for a short workout while others called it a day and left. Dean stopped by the locker room to gather his stuff and exited the building, absently replaying what happened in his mind. He barely noticed the loud thumping of his heart as his feet slowly dragged him toward his car.

 

They hadn’t crossed a word since the night of his first FCW tv taping, but this time Dean wasn’t surprised when Rollins leaned into his car window, grabbing his wrist with a shaky hand and taking the joint from him.

None said a word for several minutes. Dean quietly settled for rolling himself another while Seth took long puffs, exhaling short, uneven clouds of smoke that floated into the vehicle. While the sunlight was slowly beginning to recede, they were still under daylight, and Dean felt a pearl of sweat sliding down the side of his forehead.

“Ya still don’t get what they’re doing, Seth?” he finally queried softly once he lit the new joint, glancing at Rollins when he noticed the hitch in his breath.

Bloodshot, moist brown eyes seemed to fail to focus on him before they narrowed and Rollins tilted his chin down as he bit his quivering lip. Dean wasn’t stupid and knew he hadn’t loaded the half-smoked joint that much. Seth was shaking, his shoulders tense and slumped in defeat. The silence turned awkward between them for a while, only disturbed by Rollins muttering something intelligible to himself.

“Y’know, they never told me.” His voice sounded broken once he appeared to put his thoughts in order, seething in a different way than what Dean had grown used to. “Dusty only said they were trying to make me better, get me ready for the main roster, the fuckin’ liar.”

Dean felt like slapping the hell out of his face. “And isn’t that what they’re doing? You _really_ don’t get it?” he grabbed a fistful of Seth’s shirt, pulling him closer and staring right into his eyes. “ _We_ have been picked to be the future of WWE. They wanted to sign me at the same time as you, Dusty and Regal have tried to get to this point for almost one year! This is not about you, it’s about the way the whole fuckin’ business is gonna be handled in the future and _us_ , you and me, are meant to open the door for it. Ya keep bitchin’ and whinin’ that they don’t give you something good, and now ya lose your shit when they finally give it to you? Snap the fuck out of it!”

Pushing him back when he saw the shock on his face, Dean huffed when Rollins lost his balance and fell on his butt on the concrete. He stretched his legs out of the car and rested his chin on his hand, snarling at him.

“Ya think this attitude is gonna take you anywhere? There’s no way I’m gonna let you fuck up my career dude. We’re gonna work together, and we’re gonna fuckin’ kill it,” slowly, like a person trying not to scare a street cat away, Dean rose to his feet and approached Rollins, who just stared at him dumbfounded. He crouched down and picked the joint from the concrete, placing it between his coworker’s lips. “I told ya I make every place I go a better one, and I’m not giving you a choice other than standing up for it. Ya hear me, Seth?”

Whatever it was that flashed through Rollins’ face, Dean could not read it and didn’t really care. He plastered a tense grin on his lips as he offered his hand to Seth, who hadn’t moved a muscle since he fell on his ass.

Rollins was trembling as he nodded and hesitantly took Dean’s hand, letting him drag him to his feet.

Dean snorted. “I can’t believe I left ya speechless, heard ya never shut up,” he said with a chuckle and, before Rollins had a chance to react, he slapped him with all the strength he could muster, nearly throwing him to the floor again.

He felt damn good as he went back to his car, started the engine and glanced back at Rollins who still stood there, cradling his jaw. “There I gave ya a have fuckin’ reason to cry. Grow the fuck up; we have no time for this shit.”

He didn’t look back as he drove away.

 

_Tuesday, October 10th, 2017_

_3:50 AM, Seth’s hotel room_

Looking into Seth's relaxed features, it was difficult for Dean to picture he was the same guy he met over six years before. 

In the past, when confronted with his difficult attitude, Seth would always get defensive and fight it, proving the point of whoever was calling him out. The man sitting next to him now? He was laughing as they talked about their difficult start, a bit uncomfortable and embarrassed but openly admitting he used to be insufferable back in developmental.

Drunk and a bit emotional after such a long day and everything those memories were resurfacing, it took a while for Dean to realize he'd been staring at Seth's face with a dumb smile for quite a while. His grin just grew wider at the mischievous look he saw on his face.

Caught off guard, Dean yelped at the unexpected punch on his stomach. He cursed himself for not reading his expression better and bent over in pain.

“There, finally I gotcha back for that. I had forgotten about that.” Seth beamed at him, ruffling his hair before he opened a beer since they’d run out of whiskey.

Dean tried to hit him back but he was dizzy and now in pain and Seth dodged his swing easily, laughing like a maniac. “You fuckin’ asshole, I didn’t deserve it!” he hissed. “You, on the other hand,” he winced as he tried to sit straight again. “You deserved that and more. You deserved every bit of shit ya got back in FCW.”

Seth groaned, but Dean knew him well enough to know he wasn’t serious. “I admit I was a pain back then, was outta my damn mind, but I grew out of it.”

Dean winced as Seth edged closer and lifted his shirt up a bit, revealing the angry red mark his fist had just left there and carefully ran his fingertips over it. “Sorry dude, that’s gonna turn purple,” he said with an apologetic grin.

“Fuck you,” Dean slurred and swatted his hand away as he crawled out of bed and wobbled slightly on his way toward the fridge. He felt the world spin a bit as he dragged his feet back to the mattress with a cold beer in his hands.

“Y’know what?” He muttered more to himself than to Seth as he flopped down onto the bed, his eyes fixed on the unopened can as he rubbed his stomach absently. “I’m really glad that we didn’t fuck up. Ya ever wonder what would’ve been of our lives if we wasted that opportunity?” he asked softly.

The mattress dipped as Seth approached him from behind. Dean felt the knees surrounding his sides, warm breath fluttering against his skin. He shivered when that was followed by sharp teeth barely grazing the juncture of his neck with his shoulder. “I don’t give a fuck Dean,” he mumbled, resting his chin on Dean’s shoulder and pressing his chest against his back. “I think we have enough shit on top of us to worry about things that won’t happen. Besides I knew we wouldn’t fuck up, we were _that_ good.”

He sighed, shifting turning his face slightly to try and take a look at Seth’s face. Dean relaxed and leaned back against him, feeling a hand curl around his waist for a moment before it followed a slow trail toward his stomach. There was a small drunken smile on Seth’s lips as his hand slid under Dean’s tee shirt, rubbing gentle circles on the spot where he’d been punched minutes ago. “Yeah, we _are_ that good.”

With a silent snicker, Dean closed his eyes, enjoying the moment while the sting of pain in his stomach eased. He rolled his head to the side, trying to nuzzle against Seth’s cheek for a rare moment of unguarded affection, but he jumped out of the bed when at that same moment a cold can of beer was pressed against the punched area again. “Fuuuuuuuu- fuck you!!”

The can rolled around the floor, making a mess of beer on the carpet while Seth bent over with laughter. Dean left his beer on the floor, pouncing onto the bed and starting a fight like they had so many times in the past. Both rolled around, punching and kicking like brothers, not making any sense. At some point, he joined Seth on the laughter and they stopped, finally rolling over and trying to get their breath back.

“That hurt Deano,” chuckled Seth, rubbing his jaw and turning to face him.

Dean grinned, sitting up and trying to locate his beer in the spinning room. “And ya deserved it,” he said, poking Seth’s side at each word he said. “Now, get us some beer and let’s continue. Where were we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm happy that I managed to get out a new chapter before NYE yay!! Tomorrow I'm back to work and again this week's shifts will be crazy so there's no way I will manage to finish anything else.
> 
> Seth needed the slap AND Dusty's scolding, but do you think that will be enough to make him cooperate? Is he too hardheaded or he's right of being upset at the way they're handling him? And Dean? He's been cocky so far, but will that stay or will he fully crumble? They're testing Dusty's patience a bit too much...
> 
> What are your thoughts on this? The only benefit I get out of writing this is my own enjoyment and (hopefully) yours, so please feel free to let me know what you think -comments are open to guests too-! What you liked, what you didn't or hated, what you think will happen or anything you want to share with me. Are there any parts of their story you'd REALLY want to see through this series? Let me know; I may deliver at some point!
> 
> Remember you can also drop me a line on Tumblr (Besaster) if you want to and that I keep posting previews, updates, old FCW interviews and pics, and little random bits on the process of writing this mammoth of a series.
> 
> Thanks for staying with me, see you VERY soon :)
> 
> Happy New Year! Xx


	9. 29th June, 2011

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dusty would go over Seth’s promos over and over, and every single day would force him to improvise a new one.
> 
> One day he would have to deliver a five-minute speech about Dean. The next it would be a two-minute one to Bo Rotundo to challenge him for the Heavyweight Championship, and the following day he would have to tell his parents how much it meant to him that they supported him on his dream to become a wrestler.
> 
> The fourth day, Rollins was asked to deliver his retirement speech due to injury. The fifth, he had to admit to the audience that he abandoned his dream to be a wrestler because he wasn’t good enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy 2018!! :)
> 
> From now on, you'll barely find notes at the beginning of the chapters. Still, I wanted to let you know I raised the rating to Explicit and will stop issuing warnings before the chapters unless I deem it necessary (or upon request). For a more in-depth explanation, you can go here: https://besaster.tumblr.com/post/169121121246/preview-of-our-story-whatever-it-was-chapter-9
> 
> Things will happen when they need to happen, so this means when they do, I won't be giving you spoilers ;)
> 
> Last thing, I gave the last scene in Chapter 8 (the scene dated in 2017) a little facelift since it felt rushed and I wasn't happy with it. Nothing major, just making it clearer that they weren't in FCW there ;)
> 
> Enjoy!

_Wednesday, 29th June, 2011_

_FCW Arena, Tampa FL_

It didn’t take long for Dean to learn that the days before a taping always seemed to fly. While things at FCW were never too rushed — probably due to its pre-recorded nature —, those on the tv roster suddenly had to adapt to more hours of training, rehearsals for both the in-ring performances and promo segments, and an added pressure from management on those involved in the main storylines.

The fact that he was relatively left alone spoke volumes about the trust Dusty had on him. Still, Dean didn’t feel any of the burden alleviated by said trust. If anything, it made him even more restless.

He was a confident wrestler, believed in his talent and instincts; but had anyone asked him, he wouldn't have hesitated to admit that he wasn’t feeling as cocky as he tried to portray. It terrified Dean that the other half of the feud would fuck everything up, a plausible possibility as the days unfolded.

He was in the middle of the most critical feud in his career so far and wasn’t even speaking with his opponent. That would be okay on any small platform such as the indies, but not when the future of WWE depended on it.

There was just so much he could do to work with that.

With every passing day, Dean’s anxiety just increased. Even if they didn’t talk, he could see his coworker was about to break down under pressure. All traces of cockiness and bravado gone, Rollins’ energy had been substituted by a pale, foot-dragging ghost. Shadows tinted the sunken skin under his eyes; lost and unfocused instead of sharp and awake. For once, Dean couldn’t blame him.

Since the previous week’s meeting, Dusty had been so hard on Rollins that even some of the guys had softened their treatment on him. They had all found it comical at first — Dean included —, but the pressure on the high flyer had gotten to the point that everybody felt uncomfortable during promo classes. According to the other trainees, Rollins was a nightmare to train with, always making snide remarks about their technique and talent. But things had gotten to a point in promo classes that the line between karma and harassment was blurred. 

Dusty would go over Seth’s promos over and over, and every single day would force him to improvise a new one.

One day he would have to deliver a five-minute speech about Dean. The next it would be a two-minute one to Bo Rotundo to challenge him for the Heavyweight Championship, and the following day he would have to tell his parents how much it meant to him that they supported him on his dream to become a wrestler.

The fourth day, Rollins was asked to deliver his retirement speech due to injury. The fifth, he had to admit to the audience that he abandoned his dream to be a wrestler because he wasn’t good enough.

It was a damn mess every single time. Seth stammered, stumbled over his words, spaced out. He would be told to stop and start again every time he was interrupted and called out on his pronunciation, his mechanic delivery, his lack of emotion, or his lack of talent.

To everybody’s disbelief, he didn’t complain once and kept trying again and again. On the fifth class though, he finally crumbled, unable to deliver his ‘I’m not good enough’ promo. By the third time Dusty said things like ‘ _Enough with the Donald Duck act_ ,’ or ‘ _Are you reading the grocery list? I asked for a heartfelt promo, I want you ashamed, not bored_ ’, Rollins stopped, his whole body shaking and his fists clenched on his sides. With bloodshot eyes, he kicked the nearest chair and stomped out of the classroom, hitting anything unfortunate enough to stand in his way.

Dean felt his heartbeat punching his stomach when he caught the worried glances shared between Dusty and Regal, who was assisting during the last class before the taping.

He knew they were trying to help Rollins get out of his comfort zone and become more confident on the mic, but it looked like they were achieving the opposite. The kid looked like he was going to piss himself and never come back.

Dean didn’t know if they expected him to do anything about him or if they thought that pushing Rollins to the point of breaking would be the best idea, but it didn’t seem to be working.

Once the lesson ended, he stalled, slowly closing his notebook and folding his stack of papers to make time for everybody else to leave the classroom. While they didn’t have any further wrestling lessons for the day, most of the guys stayed to rehearse their performances or do their daily workout.

Insecure about how to tackle the situation, he crossed a few words with William Regal and Dusty when they were finally the only three people in the room.

He settled on being straightforward and voice his concerns to the other two men, struggling to put his fears into words. Their only response was a shrug, and a ‘ _You guys will have to figure it out_ ,’ which didn’t help. At all.

 

Cursing the two legends, Rollins, and himself for being out of ideas on how to control the situation, Dean’s sight blurred as he slowly walked toward his car. He tried to blink the cloud in his mind away, rubbing his temples and taking a quick look at his surroundings. Anything to stop the shaky feeling taking over his body.

He spotted Seth’s car in his usual parking, a couple of buildings away from the FCW headquarters. Unaware that he had a brain at all and not giving his actions any thought, Dean proceeded to start his car engine and visit him.

Rollins didn’t even flinch at the noise; bent against the steering wheel with his face buried into his arms, the only movement in his body the violent rise and fall of his back and shoulders as he breathed.

Stopping the motor, Dean inhaled a deep breath, not knowing what to do but sure that he had to do _something_. With clumsy hands, he took one of the joints he had rolled earlier on the day from his cigarette pack. While expecting Rollins to snatch one from him and came prepared, Dean hadn’t thought he would find himself in this situation. He lit it and stored the pack in his jeans’ pocket.

Almost tiptoeing toward Seth’s car, Dean stopped in front of the open window, watching the man who had his fate and WWE’s in his hands for a moment. The skin at the back of Rollins’ neck glistened with sweat and some loose strands of hair curled and stuck to it.

“Hey,” he hesitated, swallowing loudly. “Seth? Y’okay dude?”

There was no response other than Rollins’ shoulder blades tensing further, drawing closer together.

Dean sighed, almost choking on the smoke he had just sucked in. “Man, this is weird y’know,” he said as he awkwardly patted him on the shoulder.

While wondering if he would have to beat the living shit out of Rollins to make him react, Dean leaned closer and blew smoke against his ear and neck, chuckles vibrating through him at the visible flinch and shivers than ran through the sweaty skin. Something that resembled a muttered ‘ _Fuck you_ ’ reached his ears. “Whatever, ya’re ten years old now, dude,”

Stopping the playfulness, Dean dug his fingers around Seth’s shoulder and shook him vigorously, hoping his short nails would make him react.

“What the fuck is your problem?!” with his voice breaking mid-scream, Rollins pushed Dean away, making him stumble back and fall on his ass just far and quickly enough to avoid being hit by the door as it swung open. “What the fuck Ambrose! Can’t I be scared for a moment without you comin’ to gloat?”

Rollins took a step forward, slouching slightly and breathing hard through his nose and mouth. His brow quivered over the even darker shadows around his eyes, and Dean could do nothing other than stare dumbfounded at his crazed outburst and the fading bruise he left on his jaw during their latest encounter. The tables had turned now and it was him expecting to receive a blow.

”I told you I can be good at anything I want if I practice hard enough! I _know_ I can!” Dean’s head tilted back. He shook it in hysterical disbelief at the painful wince on Rollins’ face as his voice broke on it’s way out of his throat. “I’m fucking _trying_ , I stay up all night in front of the mirror, make videos with my phone. I’ve practiced nonstop since I saw your promo, been watching and listening to them all day long since then. I’m working hard to improve myself; so much I'm actually seei- Whatever, nevermind,” he rasped, crouching down by Dean’s side.

Dean gulped, glancing away to bit back the sad news that the effort wasn’t paying off yet. “Just, keep working on it y’know,” he sighed, fumbling around to retrieve the joint and lit it again.

“I know my limitations,” Rollins choked on the word as he looked down in defeat, tugging absently at the hem of his muscle shirt. “But I stood up to your challenge, and I’m gonna shut your mouth. If not, what happens? They get to replace me, just like that. They give you my medal and move you to the Heavyweight title, and me? They put me in the mid-card to build up their future darlings. By the time I get to challenge for a title you’ll be in the main roster already.”

Dean was thrown off balance as the truth in those words hit him. That was probably the best case scenario for Rollins if he didn’t do as well as expected during their feud. “Let me help you-” he was cut mid-sentence by a warning look.

“I know I can do this myself,” he spat, shaking his head.

Crossing his legs and sitting a bit straighter, Dean gave Rollins a quizzical look. “There’s one point we agree on; we’re both scared, dude,” the confession slipped through his lips easily, palms facing up as he offered a small smile. “Bottle up this shit and explode in the ring. When I go out there and make your life hell, let it go. I’m gonna help you and need you to impress with your flippy shit and things I can’t do; the fans will be on your side. Ya just keep gettin’ better ‘till the day comes, Seth.”

Chuckling at the sight of the wheels in Seth’s brain starting to spin again, Dean stretched and reached out to offer the joint. “’Ere. I can get ya some from my dealer tomorrow if you want. It’s my neighbor; he doesn’t know the guys here, so you’ll be fine.”

Rollins took the joint silently, avoiding to look at Dean as he slowly came down from his outburst.

None spoke for several uncomfortable minutes. Both smoked while immersed in their fears until Dean finally dared to break the silence. “So, I’m the newcomer heel, hungry to make my mark on the roster and establish myself as the biggest threat there. I’m gonna dominate and run the whole FCW, and to do it I need to slay the top babyface. That’s you,” his voice grew excited as he imagined the feud taking shape.

Rollins looked back at him, visibly spent after his breakdown but with some fire back in his eyes. “I am the beloved babyface and try to ignore your fuckin’ mug, but you won’t leave me alone. So the next time you bother me, I lose my shit and beat the hell out of ya.”

 

They stayed like that for a long time, absorbed in their talk about their feud, Dean telling him about the meeting with Dusty and Regal and how they planned everything to unfold.

Rollins ditched some of the booking ideas Dean shared with him, not happy at all about them. Surprisingly enough, he proved to be way more intelligent than he looked with the remarks he made; showing he had a sharp way to look at the sport and bookings.

Dean listened to his cold-minded, more logical approach to wrestling psychology and both went back and forth, not agreeing on much but always coming to the conclusion that it had to set a new era on wrestling.

Nodding enthusiastically, Dean liked his latest suggestion. “But I can’t let ya get the upper hand so we can try and stretch the feud, maybe get one full show just for us along the road? I can adapt my moves to force you to use different styles to show how good you are, and do my best too; the wrestling needs to be _epic_ , and both of us need to look like a million bucks.”

A cocky grin appeared on Seth’s lips. “It _will_ be. That’s the only thing I know for sure. We are _that_ good, Ambrose,” he bit his lip for a moment, thinking hard. “So, no matter how hard we try, we can’t put the other away for good, we always end up short, and the fans fuckin’ eat it up.”

“Of course they will, they won’t wanna miss a second of it, we’re gonna kill it, Seth,” Dean felt his confidence rise seeing they were on the same page, and for the first time was sure they would make it. “And if anything fails, I’ll keep interrupting you so we can go straight into fighting.”

Rollins frowned at that. “Maybe what fails it’s you not being good enough to keep up with me in that ring,” Dean almost sighed in relief to see his coworker’s cocky self back. “But that’s something we need to consider. What if we have no in-ring chemistry at all?” A touch of color set on his cheeks. “If our lack of it out of the ring is any indication, we’re fucked.”

Dean broke into a fit of laughter, bending forward and patting Rollins’ knee. “Seth, we need to _hate_ each other’s guts in this feud, I’m sure we’re doin’ just fine.” It felt relaxing to have Rollins laugh in unison, the tension between them easing again.

When Dean looked into Seth’s face again — he needed to get used to thinking of him as Seth instead of Rollins, it caused a bigger impression when he said it out loud —, he saw something strange in his expression. They grinned at each other for a long moment before Dean realized he hadn’t moved his hand from Seth’s knee.

Thinking quickly, he pressed his hand down against the rough skin to balance himself and stand up. He had no clue about how things would evolve but knew they had at least advanced.

Gazing down at Seth, Dean met exhausted eyes but something softer, less guarded on the smile directed at him. Whatever that look meant, he preferred to block it from his view by stopping by Seth’s side and ruffling his hair, almost getting it out of the bun. He ignored what sounded like a small ‘ _thanks_ ’ as he let go.

“We need to keep the hate up, okay buddy? So stop giving me those starry eyes,” he snorted at the quick turn of Seth’s head, the trademark scowl back in place.

“That’s a lot better,” he winked. “Tomorrow we’ll talk to Dusty, so now you go home, jerk off to whatever shit you’re into and go the fuck to sleep. If I have to harass you tomorrow, I'm expecting you to be alive and able to respond.”

Dean sniggered as he went back to his car, taking a last look at Seth who seemed to be muttering to himself as he stood up and stretched. He just hoped things would get better from now on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time flies and so do chapters :) Since I cut almost 2K words out of this chapter to avoid making it too long AND I have quite a few days off this week, I will update with chapter 10 during the weekend. Besides not wanting to edit a long chapter, I feel like this is a perfect ending point for this one anyway.
> 
> So there is a lot I could say about Seth in this chapter, but I would love to hear YOU talk about it. Were you expecting him to work his ass off to try and match Dean's promos? Would you say he's being unreasonable by refusing Dean's help? What about the position he was put in promo class? Do Dusty and Regal have good intentions or are they just trying to teach him a lesson by treating him the way he treats others during wrestling training?
> 
> In chapter 10, after the last few Seth heavy chapters, it's time to go back to Dean! :)
> 
> What are your thoughts on this? The only benefit I get out of writing this is my own enjoyment and (hopefully) yours, so please feel free to let me know what you think -comments are open to guests too-! What you liked, what you didn't or hated, what you think will happen or anything you want to share with me. Are there any parts of their story you'd REALLY want to see through this series? Let me know; I may deliver at some point!
> 
> Remember you can also drop me a line on Tumblr (Besaster) if you want to and that I keep posting previews, updates, old FCW interviews and pics, and little random bits on the process of writing this mammoth of a series.
> 
> Thanks for reading, see you VERY soon! Xx


	10. 30th June, 2011

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was surprised at Seth’s bark of laughter and the maniac undertone shaking on his voice. “Ooohh dude, if I bottle everything up, the moment I see ya in the ring I’m just gonna fucking kill ya.”
> 
> “That’s what it needs to look like,” he replied, joining in the laughing.

_Thursday, 30th June, 2011_

_FCW Arena, Tampa FL_

On the day of his second FCW tv taping, Dean arrived at the arena even earlier than was asked of him. He hoped Seth would be there already — often the first to get there and the last to leave —, so they could talk with Dusty before going on with the show schedule.

Parking a couple of blocks away at the back, he noticed there weren’t many cars yet, but Seth’s was already there as he'd hoped.

Dean stomped on the still burning cigarette butt and locked his car, a small smirk stretching his lips. He felt excitement buzzing through his body, relieved that he was finally on the same page as his opponent and the rivalry was taking shape. Polishing the ideas with Dusty was going to feel good and, of course, he would still have some tricks up his sleeve, ready to throw Seth off balance to get better reactions during their feud.

He entered the building through the back, stopping to greet the crew member watching the door before he crossed the training area toward the locker rooms.

As his hand connected with the door handle, he heard a familiar voice coming from inside, frustration apparent in the tone but he couldn’t make out the words.

Opening the door quietly and stepping in, Dean spotted Seth sitting on one of the benches with his back to him, headphones into place as he seemed to randomly recite some words.

“Say, soap, simple, sound- fuck!” he snapped, hitting the stool with a closed fist as he fumbled with something with this other hand. “S-say, soap, sim- fuck! Fuck. Fuck damn!! I can fuckin’ do this. Say, sssoap, s-simple, ssound, motorcyc- fuck!”

Dean stood there awkwardly, still undetected and not understanding what was going on but sure it was a moment he wasn't meant to witness. Watching Seth curse and repeatedly hit the stool, he stepped back and carefully closed the door as the other slapped his forehead and reached up to take his headphones off.

Outside of the room again, he heard some further cursing and hitting. Dean waited a moment and opened the door loudly, trying to forget what he’d just seen.

He tried to look surprised to find Seth in the middle of a tantrum, grinning at the embarrassed look sent his way when the other realized he had company. “Yo, Seth!” He greeted. “Ya look your bitchy old self again today.”

Seth didn’t answer; he just narrowed his eyes suspiciously before he crouched down to pick up his headphones.

Dean walked toward a near bench and dropped his bag there. “Ya lookin’ better today. Did you listen to old Deano and had a nice date with your hand before bed last night?” he patronized, nudging Seth on the side as he made some obscene gestures with his hand in the air, desperate to get rid of the awkwardness.

Seth rolled his eyes and stretched lazily, still annoyed. “I actually watched some of your promos, y’know?”

With a snort and lifting a finger up, Dean was ready to make a playful remark that his coworker saw coming.

“No. I didn’t beat it to your promos; you’re fuckin’ sick, dude” Seth sat on his bench and took his baseball cap off, running his fingers through the top of his hair as he leaned forward slightly, a curious look in his face. “But seriously, how do you do it? Some of those are disturbing as fuck. That one sitting on the street holding the title, what the fuck were you on?”

Dean blinked, surprised by Seth’s sincere intrigue. He was already used to his tantrums and bitching, but still got thrown off balance when he acted like a civilized person. Sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of him, he shrugged nonchalantly. “You mean what was I _not_ on? Dude, I was so fuckin’ high I don’t even remember most of those promos!” His chuckle sobered when he noticed the disappointment on his coworker’s face. “But other than that, when I do a promo, I become it and in turn it becomes _me_. Does that make sense to ya?”

Seth huffed and shook his head. “No. Not really.“

Resting his chin on a hand as he tapped his ear for a few moments, Dean tried to come up with the right words. “Okay, so let me put it this way, with an example,” he began, a bit uneasy under the wide dark eyes staring into his. “I’ve got this fuckin’ chip on my shoulder, been in this business forever now, all over the world. All I’ve got to show for it is a bunch of titles nobody gives a shit about, those promo videos online and scars all over my body. One day, WWE knocks at my door, but they don’t take me to Raw, they put me in fuckin’ developmental. So I’m angry as fuck.”

“But that’s not true; ya were on cloud nine when you got here, I saw you.”

Bringing a finger to his lips, Dean shushed. “Don’t interrupt me, lemme finish. As I was sayin’, I’m angry as fuck; I’m frustrated after all the shit I had to climb to get here and see a new obstacle I need to destroy. So the first thing I do to make my statement and make things move where I want them to is challenge their biggest face, you. I gotta fuckin’ destroy you, gotta be something management can’t handle, so they call me up to the big leagues for Vince to deal with me. So, how do I do that Seth? How do I portray that character?”

Seth sniggered softly, but seemed to drink his words, leaning forward and barely even blinking. “Okay Dean, so we’re talking about your character. You mean you try to show what you just said.”

Dean reached out to give his coworker’s knee a flippant pat. “Exactly. Of course, I’m happy as fuck that I’m here, but if I keep my character’s perspective in mind, he’s frustrated just like I’ve been all this time. He’s angry just like I was every time I had to step on a hardcore match and cut myself open with light tubes, forks or whatever the fuck they wanted me to do that day. He’s lost just like I was when calls didn’t come and I spent a month without seeing a wrestling ring. What do I do then?”

This time Seth had caught on and was quicker. “You use these feelings in the ring and turn it up so when you get to the mat or in front of the camera; it’s more believable and intense.”

“Yeah, the thing is to live it so others can believe it,” he flashed a cocky grin. “It’s true that I have a way with words and that can’t be taught. But Seth, you can get there, you can be better if you keep tryin’ and get the stick outta your ass," he tried to sound as encouraging as possible. "Everything ya feel, save it for when we get to the ring, and that'll be awesome. I’ve seen you explode before and can work wonders around that if you do it in the ring.”

He was surprised at Seth’s bark of laughter and the maniac undertone shaking on his voice. “Ooohh dude, if I bottle everything up, the moment I see ya in the ring I’m just gonna fucking kill ya.”

“That’s what it needs to look like,” he replied, joining in the laughing.

As they joked a bit more about their feud, Dean thought Jimmy had been spot on when he spoke to him about Seth. He was a brat; entitled and selfish like few people he’d ever met, but also looked like he was a good kid deep inside and smart enough to catch things quickly. He must also be quite a good negotiator if he still had a job in FCW with all the stories he’d heard so far.

Before he could say anything else, Husky Harris and Bo Rotundo stepped into the room, giving them a weird look. Dean guessed it made sense since they hadn’t spoken to each other in weeks, their few interactions had always been mocking and angry, yet here they were, laughing like they were old friends.

“Hey guys,” he greeted them with a dorky grin, he was on good terms with the two brothers and often hung out with them during lunchtime. “Can you believe this? He's even smiling now, look at this! The trick is to talk to him veeeery slowly.” Dean blocked the foot trying to kick his ribs with his arm. “Guess it takes time,” he gave the others an apologetic look.

Husky rolled his eyes and facepalmed, but his brother Bo doubled over, finding the situation too funny.

Dean caught the exasperated look on Seth’s face and stood up, chuckling at the sight of Bo Rotundo still giggling. “Let’s go see Dusty then. If we wait any longer, we won’t catch him ‘till the taping is over.”

Seth didn’t say anything; he just followed Dean silently out of the room while giving the other wrestlers an annoyed look.

 

“Don’t be so harsh on them, those two are cool,” Dean joked as they walked toward Dusty’s office.

Seth hissed. “Then I don’t think you know the meaning of the word ‘cool.’”

Feigning hurt, Dean shook his head as he reached out for the door’s handle. “I’m the walking definition of it,” he said peeking inside the office. “Hey Dusty! Man, do you have a minute for us?”

Dusty looked up from a pile of papers and smiled warmly at them. “I always have time for my two favorite guys on the roster. What’s up kids?” his smile widened when his eyes set on Seth. “I wanted to see you anyway Seth, sorry about this week I thought you could take that.”

Dean felt uncomfortable seeing the frown Seth directed to their boss, not sure if it was wise to intervene.

“It’s okay Dusty,” he sounded contrived before taking a deep breath. “I get what ya wanted there. I’m- sorry.”

Both Dusty and Dean looked at each other, unable to believe their ears.

Dusty recovered quickly, chuckling softly. “So I guess Dean has told you about our plans and you two have sorted yourselves out already?”

Dean nodded, offering a playful smirk. “Been teachin’ him manners. By the time we’re done with this feud, he’ll be fully educated. Oh- fuck!” he cursed and quickly dodged out of reach just before a fist could connect with his ribs. “Still a work in progress,” he muttered, breathing in relief since that didn’t look like a fake punch.

He could hear Seth gritting his teeth as Dusty burst out laughing again. “Good luck with that, son!” he wiped a tear from his eye. “But I’m guessing you didn’t drag him here just to tell me that, and I’m busy. So, what’s it?”

Dusty listened intently as Seth painted the picture of what they’d planned for their feud’s storyline, interrupted only by the occasional comment from Dean. For a moment, Dean wondered if they looked to Dusty like two children playing at their backyard, fantasizing about being wrestlers when they grow up instead of two well-traveled professionals.

Once Seth finished talking, Dusty stared pensively at them for a few moments. “This is something we can work out. Yeah, I like it,” the legend said mostly to himself. “But I take it you haven’t gone through any spots yet? You haven’t spoken about the wrestling itself at all?”

Both looked at each other in unison, realizing indeed they hadn’t talked about the wrestling part of their feud at all. A loud clap from Dusty made them both direct their attention to him again.

“That’s great. Please don’t, boys. I think we’ve got some magic going on here and I don’t want it happening _before_ you get into a ring. That has to be caught by cameras. I want the fans to _cringe_ at the hate.”

Dean cocked his head to the side, letting Dusty’s words sink in, but it was Seth who broke the silence. “What do you suggest?”

Dusty flashed them a smug grin. “I say you leave all planning aside and relax; you did a good job, now we gotta brew this rivalry. So, no more talking and plotting, keep doin’ what you’re doing,” his fond gaze traveled from one wrestler to the other. “You keep tormenting Seth as much as you can, harass him with your promos, annoy him any chance you get.”

Dean chuckled. “That’s gonna be easy; I’m gonna drive this fucker crazy, he's gonna want me dead way before we get to a ring.”

“It’s a bit too late for that,” Seth retorted. “What about me, Dusty?”

“You keep tryin’ to ignore him, work on your promo skills, lock in the frustration for the right time you need to release it,” he pointed out. “I suggest you watch as many of Dean’s old promos as you can, to get in the mood and be familiar with what he’s gonna be throwing your way through the whole rivalry.”

“B-but I’m doin’ that already!” Seth rushed, his voice suddenly small and hesitant. “Been watching promos non-stop, practicing and I’m-” he bit his lip and looked down, suddenly self-conscious. “Been goin’ to speech therapy for a few weeks, but I’ve been told it takes time.”

Dean startled, his mind putting all the pieces together.

With a quick glance to Dean before he looked back to Seth, Dusty smiled warmly. “I’m proud of you, son. I never thought you’d go that far, but I’m happy to know you’re going the extra mile.”

A small smile appeared on Seth’s lips, but before he could say anything Dusty continued. “It’s not easy, and it may take you years, but it’s great to know you’re committed to the position you’ve been put in. This is what you wanted after all, isn’t it?”

Seth nodded, a soft ‘thanks’ slipping through his lips, almost inaudible. Dusty gave the high flyer a thumbs up before he took a quick look at the pile of papers in front of him and directed his attention to Dean again.

“Dean, you can go get ready for the taping, you’re scheduled for the first show,” he said pointing to the door with his head. “Seth, I’d like you to stay for a bit, I want to speak with you alone.”

Dean took his cue and left the office, slightly curious about what would be happening inside as he made his way to the locker room to change into his wrestling gear and warm up.

He decided he would have time to worry about his feud when it was due, but now, he had a match to fight and a crowd to impress.

 

 

Dean was announced first, stalling on the farthest ring corner and shaking the top rope while Tito Colon made his entrance. He noticed the crowd was mostly kids that night, all of them cheering for the babyface wrestler. He made a quick mental note to tone down his heel antics a bit.

The bell rang, and he set on doing what he did best.

Short, hard-hitting sequences followed where he beat up Tito before allowing some offense, barely selling the blows he received before he spun him by the arm and threw him on his back, going for a quick pin attempt. Tito kicked out easily, rolling over and Dean was immediately on top of him with a new failed attempt of a cover.

His opponent tried to get up on his knees, and they exchanged punches, Tito’s comeback quickly blocked with a kick to the gut. Curling his arm around his neck, Dean spun him and threw him down again, locking in a hold as Tito writhed on his attempt to escape.

He finally rolled out of the hold, struggling for air and trying to hit back but Dean quickly made him fall again.

Dean rolled out of the ring, hitting a chair against the floor before he threw it away to create some impact while internally releasing some of his frustration. This match couldn’t be considered crap, but it was way worse than his first televised one against Hunico. It wasn’t that Tito was a bad wrestler, but certainly, the difference in talent between them was too obvious, and it was difficult to hide is opponent’s limitations. He wasn’t enjoying the match.

Going back to continue dominating Tito, Dean showered him with slow, hard calculated blows.

Tito quickly reacted, getting Dean off his feet and launching him into a slingshot against the ring post. He scrambled for a quick roll-up, releasing him barely in time before the referee could count up to three.

Giving his opponent some space to shine, Dean allowed him to lead the offense for a while, being hit and suplexed multiple times. He arched his back upward on the floor, trying to relieve the real pain and pressure he felt in his middle to lower back.

Tito built momentum and performed a springboard corkscrew splash off the second rope, with another failed pin attempt.

Dean took control of the situation again, playing dirty to get Tito off him and applying a running lariat to bring him down to the mat one more time. While Tito recovered, Dean played his disturbing character around the ropes, catching the producer’s gesture to go for the final sequence of the match. He didn’t miss Regal’s delighted expression.

Dean motioned for Tito to get up and immediately lifted him up on his shoulders, putting him into position to apply his finisher, the Midnight Special. He grabbed his leg, and the referee quickly counted the _one, two, three_.

While Tito lay motionless in the middle of the mat, Dean rolled his neck and gave the camera a thumbs up, making his best to look uninterested in what had just happened.

He stumbled around the ring, spinning around and demanding for a mic. Had he known the mics were going to catch his polite ‘ _thank you_ ’ and that it wouldn’t be edited out of the video, he would have shut up.

Enraged, he went toward the middle of the ring, calling out Seth again.

“It’s not about the FCW 15 Championship, Seth. It’s about us,” he began, rolling his neck and emphasizing the ‘ _us’_. He could barely hear himself over the fan’s noise. “In this ring, nobody can touch Dean Ambrose. And Seth Rollins, we already know that. So, why waste time? Somebody is gonna get knocked down a peg.”

His gaze fixed on the camera, Dean knew he was coming across as terrifying. He had to keep himself in check not to let loose and go beyond the limits of PG programming. “And the longer you run, and the longer you hide, the more obvious it is that someone is gonna be you. I want Seth Rollins beaten, bloodied, broken, bruised,” he continued, choosing his final words wisely, knowing they’d have the desired effect on his opponent. “When I beat Seth Rollins in this ring, I’ll be in a class… by myself.“

Dean’s music hit the arena again, and he moved around the ring for a moment before making his way toward the gorilla position. He was sore all over after a brutal week training with the newbies and two suplex lessons in a row. Only he knew how banged up he was though as he tried not to limp.

Just like on his previous taping, Dusty was there to crush him into a tight hug, and Xavier Woods and Leo Kruger, ready for their match coming next, gave him a thumbs up.

Seth was there in his ring gear and a hoodie, having a quiet conversation with Joey Mercury. Dean approached them, a smirk on his lips just as smug as the sway of his hips as he stood in front of them.

“How was that, Seth?” He teased. “Ya gonna answer my challenge today or ya gonna keep ignoring what’s coming your way?”

Seth rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “Nope, I’m opening the second show, and they will use the promo from the last taping to hype it up,” he said, looking a lot calmer than when they met earlier.

Dean winked at him. “That’s great news, especially for me!” He turned toward Mercury, wiggling his eyebrows. “Does it mean I’m done taping for today, Joey? Can I just shower and go get myself a girl then?”

Joey chuckled, and Dean was surprised to hear Seth snort. “Yes, you can,” Mercury assured, probably remembering all the times he said that in the past himself.

“Okay, gonna get going then,” he said with a grin. “By the way, I’ve got something for ya Seth, ya comin’?”

Seth blinked and followed him toward the locker room while Mercury approached Kruger and Woods.

 

“Gotcha some weed got it in my bag,” he explained at the weird look his coworker was giving him. “Ya owe me fifty bucks, dude.”

“Okay…” Seth mumbled, but soon a dorky grin took over his lips. “So what’s your plan tonight, you hittin’ a bar or what?”

Dean shrugged, he was just thinking about getting home, smoking a couple of joints and fall dead on his bed. “Maybe,” he teased as they stepped into the locker room. “I’ll know when I’m outta here. What about ya? You gonna get yourself a rat or ya gonna go home with your hand again?”

Seth groaned, but soon enough he was chuckling. “Nah, I'm thinking of just follow your advice and watch some of your promos and jerk off before I go to bed,” his tone was sarcastic and, surprisingly for Dean, playful. “Don’t know in what order though.”

Hearing a snicker, Dean looked around and realized some of the other guys had heard them and were laughing, immediately followed by Seth. “Oh dude,” he doubled over. “Just had to do that, should’ve seen your face.”

Quickly overcoming his shock at Seth making jokes with him, Dean joined in the laughter. He was somewhat relieved that the others weren't giving him the cold shoulder because he was working with Rollins.

He addressed Roman Leakee, who was also there. “Dude, I swear he gives me such heart-shaped eyes all the time I believed it for a second.”

Leakee snorted and raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “You guys are weird as fuck,” was all he said with a grin before returning to his conversation with Alexander Rusev.

Dean stuck his tongue at the Samoan but went back to his duffel bag, unzipping it and rummaging around until he found a small bag and handed it to Seth. “Next time, ya tell me in advance, and I introduce you to my guy. I want the money by Monday, okay?”

Seth nodded and rushed to get the weed out of anybody’s sight into his bag. As Dean sat down to remove his boots before going into the showers, he flashed another childish grin his way. “Y’know what? I just decided. Gonna do both at the same time,” he said with a humorous wink, breaking into laughter at Dean’s obvious shock.

Chuckling to himself, Dean shook his head as he removed the second boot. He preferred joking around with Seth than the weird tension they had before.

That said, he was going to annoy the fuck out of him for the next few weeks, just to test their tentative truce.

Once Seth left the room again, Dean was approached by Roman. “What the fuck was that? What’s gotten into him?”

Dean held his hands up in the air. “Fuck me if I know, I’m just tryin’ to get along with him so he doesn’t fuck up our futures.”

Nodding slightly, Roman seemed to be giving it some thought. “Guess that’s his way to be friendly? I wouldn’t know, he’s been a bitch to everybody else since day one.”

Dean stood up and placed a hand on Roman’s shoulder. “Don’t worry; I think all of us have humbled him enough to start acting like a person around us. And if he doesn’t,” his smirk gave way to a deadly serious expression. “He will have to find himself somewhere else to wrestle if what we saw from Dusty is any indication. That's if he _can_ wrestle at all when I'm done with him.”

Truce or not, he wasn't going to tolerate any more bullshit on the roster as long as he worked for FCW.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 9 was a bit shorter than usual and chapter 10 a bit longer. Does that count as balance?
> 
> I'm really enjoying the moment OSWIW is at. Dean is trying to keep everything together, happily distracted from his demons. Seth is reluctantly admitting his vulnerabilities and we're starting to see there's more to him than a snarling brat. Dusty? He's awesome and I miss him :( We're also seeing some little bits of Roman, who we'll get to know better as the story goes on. Overall, a long one but with many things going on!
> 
> Wanna watch the match and promo mentioned in this chapter? Go to this link: https://besaster.tumblr.com/post/169390663436/20110724-by-deanambrosenet-dailymotion
> 
> What are your thoughts on this? The only benefit I get out of writing this is my own enjoyment and (hopefully) yours, so please feel free to let me know what you think -comments are open to guests too-! What you liked, what you didn't or hated, what you think will happen or anything you want to share with me. Are there any parts of their story you'd REALLY want to see through this series? Let me know; I may deliver at some point!
> 
> Remember you can also drop me a line on Tumblr (Besaster) if you want to and that I keep posting previews, updates, old FCW interviews and pics, videos like the one linked above and little random bits on the process of writing this mammoth of a series.
> 
> Thanks for staying with me, see you VERY soon :)


	11. 7th-8th July, 2011

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It took him years to realize that while worrying so much about not fucking up his big opportunity with WWE, he did nothing to avoid betraying the biggest and only demand from Dusty and Regal.
> 
> Clean your image and no more Moxley antics.  
> *  
> Dean and Seth meet in the ring for the first time in a six-man tag match.

_Thursday, 7th July, 2011_

_Dean’s Apartment, Tampa FL_

Fumbling with his house keys, it took Dean minutes to realize he was trying to open the door with the mailbox key. He chuckled to himself, losing his balance and distantly feeling his forehead pressed against the door, the cold surface a little relief in the suffocating warmth of the Florida summer night.

With a relieved sigh, he wiled away the headache he felt since he decided to return home a while ago, the rapid beat of his heart not helping it go away.

Dean tried to look down and focus his sight on the mess of keys in his hand, rolling them around with his thumb until he finally recognized the right key.

It took several attempts until he stumbled into the hole he called home, barely managing to close the door behind him.

Wobbling toward the small sink a few steps by the entrance, he bent forward, hitting his forehead with the faucet, but didn’t really feel anything at all. He was blissfully drunk and perhaps a bit too high for comfort.

Dean hung his head low as he felt around and started the water, letting the small stream fall on his hair and run down his face for a while, somehow soaking his tee shirt as well.

He still felt burning hot, so he took off his shirt and used it to pat his face and chest dry. Shivers ran through his body, discomfort settling on the back of his throat and soreness and aches slowly coming back to his body but he shook it all off. He’d been in that position too many times to count and was familiar enough with the feeling of his body coming down from a cocaine high.

After making a stop to grab a cold beer from his small fridge, Dean scrunched his nose at the smell of it and stumbled toward his poor excuse of a mattress. He picked a shirt from his bag and put it on, knowing it wouldn’t stop the shaking but would provide some physical comfort.

Dean sat down at the edge of the bed and kicked his shoes off before struggling to unbutton his jeans. He groaned when he noticed some dry stains around the zipper, breathy curses leaving his lips in annoyance. He would have to wash them this soon thanks to the sloppy blowjob he’d gotten from a fan at the pub’s toilets.

He changed into some old sweatpants and took a sip of beer before picking up the smoking supplies. While he knew he would spend the rest of the night staring at the ceiling, Dean knew he needed to calm his body and mind down and at least ride it out and manage to get as much rest as possible.

He hadn’t intended for his night to end up like this. The plan was to have a drink after the show with Roman, Johnny Curtis, and Bo, then go home early since he had a three-hour drive and another performance the next day.

Things took a turn at some point, and he didn’t care to stop himself after a disappointing match against Johnny booked to end in a double count out he just felt like getting shitfaced and call it a night.

It wasn’t Johnny’s fault as the guy worked hard and did his best, but the lack of real competition and opponents on his level was starting to get to Dean and make his motivation falter. He understood management needed to protect Curtis since he hovered around the title picture and also appeared on WWE’s main roster. Being a non-televised event Dean could afford not winning while still managing to look like a beast.

Before he knew it, the guys were nowhere to be seen. Beers became whiskeys, and cigarettes gave way to snorting cocaine off some girls’ arm in the middle of the pub.

He basked in the attention from the group of ring rats that followed them to the establishment, and it had been just too easy to go on autopilot and do what he’d always done.

Easy and effortless, he didn’t even need to charm them to get anything. He just led the way toward the toilets at the first brush of one of the girls’ hands against his crotch, not even stopping to look who it was or to cross any further words or touches.

In his state, it had taken a while for his dick to react but it just made the chick double her efforts to get him off, happy to brag about sucking a wrestler off afterward. He just leaned against the small cubicle’s wall and let her do her thing, barely paying any attention at the uncoordinated bobbing of her head and the occasional scrape of teeth on his cock as he smoked a cigarette and tugged hard at her hair.

Dean just addressed the girl when he felt his balls tightening, not feeling any different than when he did it himself at home out of boredom when he came all over her hand. After all, those kind of encounters were just a quick way to get off and save having to jerk off himself when he got home.

Whatever thoughts that anything else was going to happen between them she may have had, he quickly made a point to vanish them as he rushed to tuck himself back into his pants and exited the toilet. He was used to it, and _they_ were used to it, so there was no point in pretending or for him to make an effort and get her off as well.

He’d taken what he was offered and given what he’d promised after all.

Sitting higher on the bed with his back against the wall, Dean twitched as he watched the clouds of smoke dancing and changing shapes in front of his eyes in the room’s semi-darkness.

While knowing that beating himself up because of what he’d done wouldn’t make him feel any better, guilt began to punch his stomach.

Dean knew he was going to feel like shit the next day at the Gainesville show, but it was too late to go back now.

He’d do his best to recover from the night and give a good performance, which should be easy especially keeping in mind that he was going to be in a six-man tag match.

It was going to be the first time he would meet Seth in a wrestling ring as well. Dusty had finally decided to test them before a tv taping and wanted to see them clash briefly before taking any further steps. Due to the shows airing so long after being taped, it wouldn’t be a big deal for the fans and the fact that they’d already clashed in two unaired tag matches would probably go unknown to the fans forever anyway.

And most importantly, if there was no chemistry at all, the feud could be dropped before it could become a colossal failure.

Dean felt his heart beat even faster as an anxious thought crossed his mind. What if anyone from FCW had seen him at the pub?

That thought would repeat itself in his mind over and over until he finally fell into a restless sleep.

It took him years to realize that while worrying so much about not fucking up his big opportunity with WWE, he did nothing to avoid betraying the biggest and only demand from Dusty and Regal.

 _Clean your image and no more Moxley antics_.

 

_Friday, 8th July, 2011_

_05:30 pm, MLK Center, Gainesville FL_

After gulping the rest of water in the big bottle he bought at the gas station, Dean finally dared to take a look at his reflection in the rearview mirror.

“Fuck,” was all he could say about the pale features looking back at him.

His usually bright blue eyes were glassy and red-rimmed, and the skin around them appeared sunken and dark. At the same time, his whole face was swollen and looked sickly pale and tired, certainly not the best appearance to go out and perform in front of an audience.

He certainly looked as tired and sick as he felt, just having managed to sleep three hours after smoking some weed and spending the rest of the night and morning just lying in bed with his eyes closed and trying to rest.

While he’d done it too many times to count in the past, things were different now, and he knew he’d fucked up. The only thing Dean was glad about was that it wasn’t a tv taping and that there’d be a maximum of three hundred people in the building.

Dean’s body felt heavy and incredibly sore as he dragged his feet toward the entrance, sunglasses in place to try to hide his state. Looking around hoping not to see anyone he knew, he went into the building as he’d been instructed, greeted the crew member waiting for them and followed the directions given to find the locker room.

He took a deep breath before going into the room, knowing most of the guys were there already and not ready to face anyone at all.

Dean lazily lifted a hand as a greeting and strolled toward an empty spot in the room. All he could do was hope they got the hint he wasn’t having a good day and left him alone.

And most of the guys did. Dean sat down on the bench and leaned back against the wall with his eyes closed and hidden behind his sunglasses, his head pounding and his eyes burning from driving under the soon for so long after such a long night. His peace didn’t last much as a weight suddenly dropped onto the bench.

“Woah, ya look like shit, dude,” Seth’s nasal voice pierced his brain, his tone playful. “Rough night or fun one?”

Dean sighed and opened his eyes, rolling his neck to the side to glance at Seth’s amused face before returning to his previous position. While glad that they were on better terms now, he was in no mood to deal with anyone. “Da fuck ya want?”

He groaned, annoyed by Seth’s chuckle. 

“I say rough as fuck. Thought you’d be excited that they’re putting us together in the ring today, that’s all. I can’t wait to get out there and see how it goes,” Seth sounded almost dreamy.

Sitting straighter, Dean looked back at him, unable to keep his irritation under control. Coming down from cocaine never felt good the next day. “I’d be a lot happier if you knew when to shut up. Dude, I’m trying to keep it together here and you’re just giving me a headache.”

Lowering his sunglasses a bit, he looked directly into Seth’s eyes, ignoring the disappointment written on them. He knew he was probably sending their tentative truce to hell and couldn’t care less at the moment.

Seth scowled, looking down before he stood up, his eyes defying Dean. “For somebody who brags about teaching professionalism, I expected to see some,” he muttered in disdain before turning around to go gather his stuff.

Ignoring the rational voice at the back of his mind telling him that Seth was just trying to be friendly, Dean felt a pang of guilt and rage. Had he been less fucked up he would have started a fight to get rid of his frustration. But he settled for just slipping his glasses back up and wait until it was time to get ready for his match, the main event of the night.

What he wasn’t expecting was one of the producers calling him out to meet William Regal immediately.

 

Dean held his breath as he walked down the hall and William Regal’s back stood in his sight. When he was a couple of feet away from his boss, he hesitated. “Mr. Regal? Been told ya wanted to see me,” he began, surprised at the fear in his voice.

Regal turned around, revealing nothing affable in his features. His narrowed eyes stabbed Dean with their contempt and disappointment for several minutes.

He barely managed to keep from trembling under it, already knowing of where the conversation would go.

“Don’t you even try to deny it,” Regal spat. “It takes one to know one, and you weren’t even discrete, people from the crew saw you bloody sniffing cocaine off three women’s arms one after the other last night.”

Dean swallowed, his mouth agape and panic shaking all over his body. He couldn’t move, his dream and his whole life dissolving under the realization that he had just fucked up his career.

“I know it isn’t easy for you to suddenly adapt to life here Dean. We haven’t said a word about smoking weed outside after the shows with Rollins or after your practices,” Dean wasn’t sure if he preferred Regal’s anger over the disappointment in his voice.

He tried to say something, but Regal cut him before any sound could leave Dean’s throat. “Does it happen often?” He said slowly.

Dean shook his head, trying to tell his boss with his expression the truth he couldn’t manage to put into words. He hadn’t done that in a while and was keeping himself clean of anything but alcohol and marijuana.

“And you gotta fucking do that the night before the bloody fucking test for the feud that’s supposed to launch your career and change the whole fucking WWE?” Regal spit close to his face, pushing him back and forth by grabbing a fistful of his tee shirt’s collar. “We only asked you to do _one_ thing, and you let us down.”

“It won’t happen again,” mumbled Dean, sure that his sunglasses wouldn’t hide the panic in his gaze.

Regal let go of his shirt and pushed him away, a snarl set on his face. “Grab yourself a coffee and make sure you don’t injure anyone out there. Your career depends on it. We thought you were serious about FCW.”

Dean turned away and stumbled down the corridor, with no clue where he was going but needing to get away from there.

With the venue still closed to the audience and performing on the main event, he was at least granted some time to compose himself before he went back to the locker room to get ready for the six-man tag match.

 

 

The heel team came out first. Lucky Cannon received a tepid welcome as he made his way to the ring. Dean’s music hit next, and he got stronger reactions to his provocations, but still, most of the fans didn’t know him yet. His match against Hunico hadn’t been aired yet.

Dean’s headache hadn’t gotten any better, he felt sore all over and ready to pass out and knew he didn’t look any better, even with the layer of stage makeup he had borrowed from Sandow. The fan’s voices and general loudness made him want to run away, but Dean knew where he was, even if he couldn’t handle the situation the way he did while in CZW and other non-PG friendly promotions in the past.

Thankfully the coffee and sandwich he grabbed from the crew helped him recover just barely enough to get to the ring by the time the match took place.

Immediately after Dean’s music stopped, Damien Sandow’s theme broke through the arena, and this time the fans booed mercilessly when the well-known heel made his entrance.

A tactic as simple as having the heels enter first always helped the babyfaces get better reactions and that night it wasn’t an exception. To get some extra heat from the audience, Damien delivered a short promo claiming the good guys were so afraid of losing their titles they had to create a little team of coward losers.

The fan boos became deafening, Dean unable to stop himself from wincing at the stab of pain from the noise.

Bo Rotundo’s music hit first, and the fans lost their minds when the Heavyweight champion, basking on the cheers as he waited for his tag team partners to make their appearance in the middle of the ramp and as far away from the heel team as he could.

Once his music died Bo kept showing his Heavyweight championship to the audience until the theme switched. Titus O’Neil came out to a positive but much quieter reaction. That was also part of the plan. And the program was to get Rollins cheered.

The almost three hundred fans in the venue lost their mind when FCW’s top babyface’s music hit, while Bo was popular and the big champion, it was the FCW 15 champion who had the most fans.

Seth took slow but confident steps toward his teammates for the night, holding his FCW 15 championship medal high to greet the fans. His expression was serious and focused, turning quickly into rage when his eyes set on the ring.

The three babyfaces approached the ring, and the action began as they were instructed. Pro wrestling _101._ The heel team insulted the good guys, and the referee intervened just an instant before a brawl broke on the squared circle.

Dean held onto the top rope to keep his balance and wait for his moment to tag in, trying to act as professional as his body would allow.

Damien and Seth carried the first part of the match, wrestling each other for a few minutes to gather heat.

Sandow threw his opponent around the ring like a rag doll with the occasional comeback from Seth, who would hit a couple of moves before being dominated again by the bigger wrestler.

When Dean directed his attention back to the ring after insulting some drunk fans on the first row, he saw Damien hit Seth’s head repeatedly against the furthest turnbuckle. Quickly hauling him up onto the top rope when he went limp on the mat, he took a couple of steps back to brag and bask in the noise.

The crowd was divided between booing Sandow and cheering for Seth. Still, they all cheered in unison when just as the heel approached the ropes again and Seth suddenly came back to life and applied a tornado DDT. That move always looked brutal and like it broke the receiver’s neck, especially when it was performed on a bigger body like Damien’s.

Seth tried to pin Damien but the heel kicked out at two, launching him a couple of feet away.

It gave Seth some precious seconds to crawl toward his team’s corner and tag Titus in, who didn’t waste any time trying to pin Damien again. Another kick out, this time at one.

The fast-paced action in the ring slowly sucked Dean into the match, making his adrenaline rise as he impatiently waited for his turn to shine.

Damien and Titus exchanged some blows, slowing down the rhythm, and soon Sandow tagged Dean in.

As soon as he stepped inside the ring, Dean heard Seth shouting at Titus to tag him in, and the fans weren't complaining. Titus looked from one to the other and smirked, letting Seth have his way and tagging him in.

Facing each other in the ring for the first time, both circled the ring slowly just like Dusty had booked. After a few seconds, when the fans were chanting ‘ _Rollins, Rollins, Rollins_ ,’ the high flyer stopped moving around and took a step forward, his forearm caught mid-air by Dean before he could be hit.

“This is not just about you,” Seth hissed between clenched teeth, releasing his arm from Dean’s grasp and trying to hit again. “Ya gonna fuck it up for all of us.”

Blocking the second strike again, Dean quickly spun over his heels and kicked his opponent on the back of the knee, just applying enough pressure for Seth to know he had to drop to the floor on his back.

Seth did so and quickly jumped back on his feet again, both moving in circles one more time as Dean continued playing his character and provoking him further. 

Seth wasn't playing.

A loud ‘ _Fuck!_ ’ escaped Dean’s lips at the hard slap that came out of nowhere, way stiffer than what was usual with those spots. It stung and almost made him lose his balance, but he hit back, not as hard but delivering a clear message.

Another hard slap followed, and Dean went to feeling cornered and guilty to forgetting about the booking and where he was. His body took over as his mind lost all control.

He hit his forearm against Seth’s chest, going for a kick to the stomach when he instinctively bent over in real pain, quickly shoving him against the mat. He barely registered the panic on wide brown eyes before Seth rolled over and swiftly crawled away just in time to avoid being showered with real punches.

Dean looked up; his mind was only able to try and beat the hell out of Seth, or anyone stupid enough to get within his reach for all he cared.

When he lifted his gaze, he saw his opponent holding onto the first rope, his back against the turnbuckle and breathing harshly. Dean ignored his mouthed ‘ _What the fuck are you doing_ ’ tried to tear him away from the ropes and it took no time for the referee to be on him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” The referee hissed as he tried to put Dean away and at the same time started a count in the corner. “He’s getting up and kick you out. You stay down after.”

The referee’s touch made Dean snap back into reality, realizing almost too late that he’d tried to hurt someone in the ring for real. He stumbled back to his feet and took a step backward, turning around to taunt the audience as Seth rose slowly out of his sight, still holding onto the ropes as he regained his balance.

Dean quickly turned around to continue the sequence and as advised, let Seth kick him on the head and dropped to the floor when he felt the foot hit the top of his shoulder. He slowly rolled out of the ring, catching the referee whisper for Seth to tag Bo while appearing to be checking out on him.

It gave Dean enough time to crawl back into the ring and tag Cannon in before he rolled out again and laid down on ringside.

Closing his eyes and feeling the world spin around him, Dean wanted to break something, disappear, erase the previous night. He’d fucked up big time and would have to face the consequences after the match ended.

He didn’t have much time to dwell on his guilt, the crowd suddenly screaming for the one, two, three along with the referee and Rotundo’s music hitting the arena. Most live events ended sending the fans home happy with a babyface win.

Dean laid down motionless until Damien and Cannon grabbed his arms and picked him up, the three heels stumbling toward the gorilla position while the babyface team celebrated their win with the fans. Dean gritted his teeth on his way out, listening to Damien and Cannon give him a rightful piece of their mind.

He muttered an apology and straightened up as soon as he was let go. Regal and Dusty were blocking his way out, both extremely serious. There would be no pats on the back that day, and in his panicked state, he guessed he wouldn’t have a job either after the stunt he pulled on Seth in the ring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must be on my way to becoming the most hated Ambrollins writer ever at this point. Making Dean suffer every time things seem to be looking up? Check. Ending the chapter in the middle of a cliffhanger after almost 4K action-packed words? Double check. Nerve-wracking slow burn? Triple check! Yes, I'm loving Sami Zayn's heel run.
> 
> Jokes aside, I really enjoyed writing this chapter and can't wait for things to REALLY go well for Dean. I promise they will at some point. But there's a lot of necessary shit to sort first and a lot of ground to cover. For the time being, we'll see how the night ends in Chapter 12 and the story will continue going forward. It's always going forward while it looks like taking steps back, just like life itself.
> 
> BY THE WAY, at the moment I'm open to prompts and requests as I posted on Tumblr (Besaster). I'm gonna have more time to write and my brain asks me for something to recover while writing the ALAWKTT mammoth. Feel free to message me with your ideas, I'll give them some thought and see if I can get some inspiration to write something for you!
> 
> What are your thoughts on this chapter and the story? The only benefit I get out of writing this is my own enjoyment and (hopefully) yours, so please feel free to let me know what you think -comments are open to guests too-! What you liked, what you didn't or hated, what you think will happen or anything you want to share with me. Are there any parts of their story you'd REALLY want to see through this series? Let me know; I may deliver at some point!
> 
> Remember you can also drop me a line on Tumblr if you want to and that I keep posting previews, updates, old FCW interviews and pics, and little random bits on the process of writing this mammoth of a series.
> 
> Thanks for staying with me, see you VERY soon :)


	12. 8th July, 2011

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He muttered an apology and straightened up as soon as he was let go. Regal and Dusty were blocking his way out, both extremely serious. There would be no pats on the back that day, and in his panicked state, he guessed he wouldn’t have a job either after the stunt he pulled on Seth in the ring.
> 
> Continues where chapter 11 left on.

_Friday, 8th July, 2011_

_10:00 pm, MLK Center, Gainesville FL_

He muttered an apology and straightened up as soon as he was let go. Regal and Dusty were blocking his way out, both extremely serious. There would be no pats on the back that day, and in his panicked state, he guessed he wouldn’t have a job either after the stunt he pulled on Seth in the ring.

“Are you aware that you should immediately be fired and banned from WWE after what you just did out there?” Not only did you jeopardize the entire future of WWE’s developmental system, but you could have also injured Rollins or even killed him had the referee not intervened.” Regal didn’t beat around the bush. “Had it been me, I would have ripped your arm off. You should be thankful the kid is nicer than me.”

Dean was so terrified he didn’t even register there were still people around them in the backstage area. He wanted to look down, away; but he couldn’t tear his gaze from his managers.

Looking at Dusty’s eyes drained the air from his lungs, and mixed with his exhaustion Dean felt dizzy, his knees trembling as he found it difficult to keep himself from collapsing.

“I was expecting so much from you,” the American Dream sounded void of any emotion. “Is there anything you can say to justify yourself?”

No answer, there was nothing he could say to justify he’d lost his mind and had engaged in a chain of bad decisions.

Dusty’s eyes narrowed further. “What? Not gonna say you fucked up? Were you frustrated because you aren’t getting what you think you deserve, drowning it in cocaine and alcohol? Or did you just believe you’re some kind of wrestling god and that you’d do fine anyway? I don’t give a fuck if you destroy yourself, but I won’t let ya endanger any of my boys.”

Words didn’t reach his lips to say he was sorry, that he never wanted to act like that. He felt unable to express how he was ashamed and regretted his behavior. All he managed to do was just stare at them and try to keep his knees from buckling.

Regal’s gaze seemed to gravitate to Dean’s side for a moment. “If you were struggling, you could have spoken to us. That's part of what we do,” he assured softly. “But you thought it was better to fuck it all up and deal with things your way. For what? For almost beating the living shit out of a coworker, fucking up your future and everybody else’s. Was it worth it, Ambrose?”

Dean couldn’t hear him anymore though; he couldn’t even see the two men in front of him.

He scratched at his collarbone as if trying to pull away a shirt that was too tight but there was just sweat and skin. He felt unable to breathe, the constriction of his actions choking him as his head lolled forward slightly.

When his body became heavier, about to lose consciousness, a hand clenched around the back of his neck, and secure fingers dug into his cold, sweaty skin. Dean was holding onto the last remains of consciousness when the fingers shifted and grabbed his hair, forcing his face up and air back into his lungs. It stopped him from collapsing onto the floor. 

A strangled sound suspiciously akin to a whimper left his lips as he gasped for air, suddenly back to the room, overwhelmed by the voices, the light and the people around him.

He didn’t know how long it took him to regain his senses but knew he’d had an audience, and it didn’t go unnoticed. The only thing keeping him upright was the hand at the back of his neck, which slowly moved to his shoulder, still gripping firmly.

It took a few seconds for Dean to be able to focus his gaze. When he did, he could see Dusty was worried, and understanding emanated from Regal. Shame crept up his cheeks, his skin heating up. How long had he been out of it? Before his mind could process that somebody was still touching him, a nasal voice lifted all doubts.

“Dude, why the long face? The crowd fuckin’ ate it up,” Seth sounded ecstatic. “You guys saw that? They were marking out; they loved it! Was that the hate ya wanted, Dusty?”

Dean was still shaky but managed to remove himself from Seth’s tense touch, finally turning around to look at him. While there was a wide grin set on his lips, his eyes didn’t match it; there was something grim in them. Still, Dean was grateful that he stood up for him in his own style.

“Not like that, son,” Dusty emphasized with a tired shake of his head before he addressed Dean. “That you had a panic attack is not gonna erase what you’ve done. I’m not firing you tonight, but you’re hanging on a thin thread here. And neither Seth or the crowd will save you next time.”

Regal took two steps forward, revealing a small notebook and a pen out of his jacket’s pocket. He scribbled something on a page and ripped it off, handing it to Dean. “Our initial plans for you to win the medal off Rollins during the feud have been aborted. We will not reward your attitude with titles.”

Dean swallowed as Regal's words sunk in. _Fuck the titles_ , he still had a job and had been given a second _and_ last chance. It was surreal, and it hurt, but at the same time, a significant weight disappeared from his shoulders.

Looking down at the piece of paper in his hand, he understood it was the name and address of a motel. _Room 7_. He blinked at Regal in confusion and glanced at Seth, his mouth parted to speak but just air coming out. His coworker just shrugged.

“Well, I just came over to say I’m fine and willing to forget what just happened out there. Off to the showers now,” Seth said apathetically, his attention back to their bosses. “Need anything from me? I’m dying to get back home.”

Dusty directed a warm smile to Seth, his expression a stark contrast with how he had looked at Dean. “You can go shower son; you did a good job. Thanks for staying professional above everything else,” he said fondly, glancing at his watch. "By this time traffic is better so you could make it home in under two hours."

With that Seth flashed a small smile to Dusty and walked away, leaving Dean to stand in front of the two men, shifting uncomfortably on the balls of his feet.

He still hadn’t regained the ability to speak, able to just wave the piece of paper weakly in the air.

Regal’s eyes narrowed again. “That’s where you’ll go after you shower. It’s a five-minute drive down the road,” he said sternly. “You’re not driving back like this nor are you going to get shitfaced here. You’ll go directly to the motel and stay there; they’ll have some proper food ready for you when you arrive. I booked that room for you, and you’ll get random calls through the night to make sure you’re there.”

Dean nodded slowly, not daring to say anything that would put him in a worse position as he felt his heart still pounding painfully into his chest.

“We'll deduct the price of the room and food from your next check, and if you’re not there when I call, you’re immediately fired,” there was no doubt Regal would follow up on his threat. “You have no say on this.”

Again, all Dean could do was nod and bit his tongue. “The only reason you still have a job is that those kids don’t deserve to be screwed because of your irresponsibility,” Dusty took over. “This is your last shot though. We won’t hesitate to send this to hell and start all over if you let us down again.”

“I’m sorry,” Dean finally croaked. “It won’t happen again.”

Regal nodded, his gaze still unforgiving. “We’re not the only ones you should apologize to.”

Dean sighed and nodded again, looking down in shame as his pride revolted inside of him. He shoved away thoughts pointing out he wasn’t worth the chance FCW gave him, that he didn’t deserve to have any of his fellow wrestlers standing up for him, especially not Seth after what he did in the ring.

“Now get out of our sight before we regret not firing you,” Dusty said tiredly, rubbing the palm of his hand against his forehead.

 

 

By the time Dean stepped into the locker room, most of the guys had left already. Sandow and Bo Rotundo were getting dressed, and he could hear the distant sound of someone else in the showers.

Dean kept his head low, and the other two respected his space, not saying a thing and just nodding at him in acknowledgment when their eyes met for a moment. Bo smiled nervously.

He approached his bag and took out a towel before he removed his boots and undressed.

Exhausted, Dean dragged himself to the shower area. He walked into the nearest empty shower, leisurely closing the door before he hung the towel over it.

Dean felt light-headed, closing his eyes to take a deep breath, trying to calm down his heartbeat. As his mind began to cool down, he became aware of his surroundings, his senses working again.

The sound of the stream of water and somebody soaping their skin coming from the adjacent shower cubicle tickled Dean’s body. He inhaled the lingering smell of bleach in the air, not entirely concealing the notes of sweat and humidity typical in locker rooms as it invaded his nostrils.

Constant replays from the previous minutes appeared behind his lids, and hesitantly receded at the same time he forced himself pay attention to something else.

Shivering slightly as the sweat in his body evaporated, Dean’s hand reached forward, stopping against the cold metal. Did he just hear a groan?

Dean’s arm shot forward to hold onto the wall, afraid he would lose his balance after straining his neck to listen a bit closer. Had he not been so shaken and coming down from a near panic attack, he would have chuckled at the unmistakable slapping sound of slick skin, not disguised at all by the water falling over the guy’s body.

Dean grimaced, a sarcastic voice in his mind annoyed by other people being able to enjoy a little moment with themselves, while he had to try to avoid having a heart attack. Life was just that unfair. His dick was probably the last thing he would care to think about at the moment.

Soft pants reached his ears as the smack of skin on skin's pace increased, their rhythm growing desperate and louder.

Deciding he had no interest in listening to another guy’s masturbation practices, Dean started the shower, a small smirk tingling his lips at the soft ‘ _Fuck_ ’ coming from the other stall. He waited for steam to form around the stream before stepping under it. Muffled by the surrounding water as he relaxed, he heard a choked whimper and the plastic slide of flip-flops against the shower floor while he scrubbed his hair to get rid of the sweat on it.

Dean took a lengthy shower, lazily soaping his body and cleaning himself as much as he could, like that would make his guilt and self-loathing go away. He enjoyed how the cascading water soothed his aching muscles as it rolled down his skin.

The nearby shower stream stopped and its occupant left long before Dean finished his own and patted himself dry with the towel.

 

Feeling ready to fall asleep while still on his feet, Dean stumbled back into the lockers area, frowning when his hopes to be the only person left in the room were immediately crushed.

Seth stood in front of him on a pair of sweatpants, tying his damp hair into a ponytail. He flinched when he noticed Dean was there but said nothing as he reached out for a black band tee shirt and put it on.

Neither his scowl nor the slight flush that darkener further on his skin escaped Dean’s eyes. He was too spent to chuckle, but a little grin set on his lips at the realization that Seth was the one using the other shower. None of them mentioned it.

Dean approached his bag and proceeded to get dressed. As he zipped his jeans up, he took a glance at Seth, who seemed ready to go.

Fumbling to button his pants, Dean gathered the energy to break the awkward silence as soon as his coworker turned his back to him to leave. “Seth,” he called in a faint rasp, feeling his heart beat faster in anticipation.

Seth’s back visibly tensed and he stopped on the spot. He just stood there, making it clear Dean would have to talk to his back.

“Hey, sorry about before. I’m serious, Seth,” he winced and let out a long, shaky sigh. “I could have killed you and fuck everything up for everybody. It won’t happen again, I swear.”

Seth turned around abruptly, his mouth tightened in a twitchy line, his eyes wide open and his forehead furrowed deeply. His nostrils fluttered with heavy breaths.

“Da fuck was that out there, Ambrose?” He blurted, his fists clenched and his body leaning backward slightly. “Don’t give me any bullshit ‘cause I’ll beat the shit out of ya right here.”

Dean watched Seth’s posture slouching down a fraction as he took a step forward. “Ya want the truth? Okay, I was anxious as fuck and lost my mind. I didn’t know what I was doin’ and lost control. Was coming down from last night, hadn’t slept and then the fuckin’ drive here,” he recalled. “Regal yelled the shit outta me, and then ya hit me and-”

“That’s not the fucking problem!” Seth took a few more steps forward. “Ya get wasted the night before a trip _now_? When they’re launching our feud? The first time we’re gonna step into a fuckin’ ring together and that Dusty asked us to work our asses on? _Why_ did you do that?”

Dean gasped and looked away, uncomfortable. “I get now what ya meant when you said there was no real competition here," he admitted. "I’m frustrated already and lost control after the match with Curtis. I drank, got some attention from the chicks-” his excuse sounded pathetic once voiced, but it didn’t make it less true. “Sometimes ya just do the only thing ya know, and that was a fuck up. Fucked up big, dude.”

“Yeah, you did,” Seth’s voice was harsh and carried some venom. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to trust you in the ring now? It’s my fuckin’ body I’m putting in your hands, dude.”

“Why did you help me with the bosses earlier then?” He questioned, suddenly confused. “I don’t get it; you held me up when I was gonna pass out and supported me. So don’t give me any bullshit either, why did you do it?”

Seth looked down as he reached up to fix his bun. He sighed softly and faced Dean again wearily, almost with resignation. “Because I’ll never get outta here if you’re fired,” the look on his face left no doubts that he wasn’t joking.

Dean had no way to hide his disappointment, but he knew he brought this to himself.

With an indolent shrug, he fixed his eyes on Seth again before he stepped back to finish getting dressed. “I’m pretty sure they’ll put us on another six-man match again, I’ll show ya there that if there's a place you can trust me, it's in a ring,” he promised, his voice firmer as he slid into a tank top.

“I hope so,” Seth said turning away again and gathering his bag. He stopped moving when his hand reached the door handle and tightened around it. He hesitated for a moment. “Please don’t fuck this up, Dean,” he pleaded between gritted teeth before he left the room, pushing the door closed with a kick.

Dean sank down on a bench and bent down to lace up his shoes, mouthing a ‘ _Thanks_ ’ meant for people who weren’t there to hear it. He sat there for a while, lost in thoughts he had no energy to pay attention to until he went back to reality and zipped up his bag, distantly feeling grateful that Regal had gotten him a room.

That was much better than sleeping in his car or crashing on the road.

 

 

It only took a few minutes to find the motel, easily recognizable from the road. A quick look at the parking lot revealed that there were a few familiar cars from some of the guys who decided to stay the night. He guessed Regal knew the place and recommended it, or the guys just happened to see it on their way back and decided to rest there.

After a quick check-in, the receptionist gave him a key and a big bag full of food that still felt warm.

Dean went back outside and wandered until he found his room, which revealed to be small yet clean and decent enough compared with the motels he was used to.

He dropped his duffel bag on the bed and kicked out of his shoes, his sore body aching at every move. A quick look revealed where the phone was and it was plugged so he would just wake up to pick Regal’s calls then fall asleep again.

Dean placed the food on the small desk at the end of the room before he unfastened his belt and slid his jeans down and out of his feet.

The bathroom was tiny, but it was also clean. Dean washed his face to try and wake up a bit before he sat down to eat.

The meal consisted of generous portions of boiled potatoes, chicken, and steamed vegetables on some thick, dark sauce. While not feeling hungry at all but sick and too tired to even think coherently, the food smelled delicious and was still warm, so Dean forced himself to eat as he tried to come to peace with everything that had happened during the last twenty-four hours.

Dean closed the containers and placed them back into the paper bag when he couldn’t even manage to lift the plastic fork toward his mouth anymore. He briefly wondered how much it would cost him since the food seemed to come from a local restaurant judging by the bags.

He moved his belongings on the floor and rolled under the scratchy yet clean sheets, settling to lie on his back with an arm behind his head. Dean’s eyes felt heavy and stung as they slid closed, and his mind jumped deliriously from one thought to the other.

Dean’s train of thought drifted back to earlier in the night when he heard Seth jerking off in the shower. He wondered why he was doing it; if it was due to ring adrenaline, something that was very common like a ring chub. Was Seth trying to relieve some stress or pent-up tension? Maybe he was just horny? He briefly tried to imagine him in the shower, would he be blissed out or just anxiously getting himself off?

Dean snorted when he realized he didn’t give a shit about why his coworker masturbated and certainly didn't need a mental image of how he looked like while doing so. He was just thinking crap before drifting off. Still, he thought he’d get to it faster if he followed Seth's example even if he wasn’t in the mood at all.

As his breathing steadied and his chest rose and sunk slowly, the hand resting on his belly slid down lazily until he felt the fabric of his boxers. Dean lifted them at the waistline to slip his hand inside, his fingers brushing his skin before wrapping loosely around his soft dick.

Dean rubbed the palm of his hand against his unresponsive flesh, absently caressing the smooth skin at the top with a fingertip as he teased himself with short motions he barely felt. It took him moments to fall into a deep slumber with his hand in his boxers.

When Dean woke up in the morning, still tired and sore, the first thing he realized was the phone never rang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here I am cementing my position as a heel writer even further; I almost feel guilty for enjoying writing chapter 11 and 12 so much lol. I'm making Dean go through a lot but it's all necessary to the story. If you've read 'Overwhelmed,' you know he will get some reward along the line besides all this drama.
> 
> Even with how slow burn this fic is, we are quickly getting to their first match! Are you as excited as I am to get into their feud? The fact that things we already saw in Part 1 of ALAWKTT are starting to converge or show themselves as natural now in OSWIW is a plus as I fit the pieces together. I could ask you so many questions about this chapter, but I would rather listen to you talk about it :)
> 
> A quick reminder that I'm still open to fic prompts and requests, so you can message me your ideas via Tumblr if you'd like me to give it some thought.
> 
> What are your thoughts on this? The only benefit I get out of writing this is my own enjoyment and (hopefully) yours, so please feel free to let me know what you think -comments are open to guests too-! What you liked, what you didn't or hated, what you think will happen or anything you want to share with me. Are there any parts of their story you'd REALLY want to see through this series? Let me know; I may deliver at some point!
> 
> Remember you can also drop me a line on Tumblr (Besaster) if you want to and that I keep posting previews, updates, old FCW interviews and pics, and little random bits on the process of writing this mammoth of a series.
> 
> Thanks for staying with me, see you VERY soon :)


	13. 16th July, 2011

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leo attacked Seth viciously as Dean slowly rolled out of the ring, shaking as his heart pounded hard into his chest. “Holy fuckin’ shit,” he mouthed when his back hit the floor outside, licking his lips as he tried to control his breathing.
> 
> Less than two minutes of action had made him feel more than two months under contract with FCW.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! Just before you start reading, in case you haven't, I posted Seth's POV for chapters 11 & 12 as Part 4 of the 'As Long As We Know The Truth' series. It's a two chapter fic called 'This Is Not Just About You'.
> 
> I recommend you read it first if you haven't already, as it will add a lot of depth to what's happened and what it's going to happen in future chapters. Thanks Ruyade for the request! *hearts*
> 
> Enjoy!

_Saturday, 16th July, 2011_

_Harborside Event Center, Fort Myers FL_

After his stunt the week before, Dean didn’t think he would be summoned to perform for a while.

He was proven wrong when Dusty informed him he would be wrestling on the FCW Summer SlamaRama the next week.

At least he had recovered already from the previous event in Gainesville. When he woke up in the morning and realized the phone hadn’t rung, his first thought was that he had been fired. He didn’t understand there could be any other reason for Regal not to make any calls.

He’d stared at his phone for a long while, wondering if he should make the call himself instead, but had finally decided against it, checking out of the motel and proceeding to drive back to Tampa with a knot twisting his stomach painfully.

Regal called later in the day though, cordial, soothing even, in response to how nervous Dean was when he accepted the call with shaky hands.

Instead of confirming his suspicions of being fired, Regal had just asked if he felt better and informed him he would compete again the next week in another six-man tag match to main-event the Summer SlamaRama. He even added that he knew Dean wouldn’t disappoint this time, and commented on how excited Dusty was about it yet made it very clear that this was a reward for Rollins.

Like anyone would have applauded his behavior the previous night.

All Dean could do was thank Regal for the opportunity and assure him it wouldn’t happen again. While the exact words didn’t leave the legend’s lips, he knew there was an implicit ‘ _We trust you_ ’ in his speech and understood it was the reason behind the lack of calls.

 

The week at the FCW building started full of uncomfortable stares and moments — including a meeting with Dusty and Regal first thing on Monday —, but the air cleared soon as everybody worked together to prepare for the upcoming event.

Dean continued training with the newbies, having lunch with Roman and the guys and assisting to promo lessons in the afternoon with the tv roster.

He made sure not to go out or drink too much through the week, worked harder than usual, and was exceptionally patient with the newbies. It was a silent apology toward management, being humbler than he’d ever been.

His stint in the ring and after the match in Gainesville had been forgotten by Wednesday by almost everybody. Only one person appeared weary toward Dean during the whole week, and he couldn’t exactly blame him for it.

Seth obviously avoided him, uncomfortable and fidgety whenever they were close, ignoring any greetings when they crossed paths. Their only interactions during the week had been part of the booking meetings for their match on the SlamaRama.

Dean had given it some thought during the week.

He wondered if Seth was scared of him, if he was worried about his safety in the ring like he’d implied, or if it had anything to do with his later plea of ‘ _don’t fuck it up_.’ Was there something he’d missed?

What Dean knew for sure was that it had nothing to do with the little shower stunt. Both had been around locker rooms long enough to be used to that kind of thing and, if anything, it was usually a running joke between wrestlers. He would have teased him mercilessly about jerking off in the shower, but the situation was just too awkward between them.

He quickly shook his thoughts off and kicked the floor twice with each foot to test if his boots were tight enough. With that, he was ready to start the work he was meant to do before the six-man tag match.

While Dean couldn’t change the events of the previous week anymore, there was one thing he could do.

And it was following through with his determination to impress, to lead the locker room by example and to prove he was untouchable once he stepped into a ring.

 

 

The Summer SlamaRama event in Fort Myers was mostly a glorified summer themed house show including extra activities and a couple of known Friday Night Smackdown faces.

Due to WWE lending FCW Wade Barret and Heath Slater for the event for a meet-and-greet, there was a fair share of local press.

The venue was packed with fans after being bombarded with adverts for the latest month. The promise of gifting every attendant with a set of FCW trading cards also seemed to help gather lots of kids in the crowd.

Dean’s match against Hunico had finally aired, and so had his promo challenging Seth, and because of how heavily FCW promoted the event, many fans knew him already and expressed their desire for the current FCW 15 Champion to beat him during their match later.

It had been fun, bickering with the fans outside and taking pictures in heel poses with the kids. Other wrestlers, all babyfaces, had appeared on a karaoke contest.

For him, it was a radical contrast to the events he was used to attending. FCW events were family oriented, following WWE’s PG environment, so there were no beers for him, no blood, no torn clothes.

It wasn’t a bad thing. Dean could live without having to get patched up for once and, while thinking the event was a bit ridiculous, he had zero complaints about it.

He didn’t feel too comfortable doing these things. Still, he knew they were a necessary preparation for the day he ended up on the main roster in WWE.

Dean had been so busy that hours had flown and he suddenly was in gorilla position, ready to make his entrance along with Husky Harris and Leo Kruger as the heel team.

Husky Harris came out first, followed by Dean and then Leo Kruger, the most known heel out of them.

The fans were on fire, booing loudly and demanding for the good guys to come out. Luckily there was no burnout on them after a long evening of events. Hunico, Bo Rotundo, and Seth Rollins came out to an explosion of cheers. The crowd was dying to see them, screamed for them to destroy the bad guys.

As soon as they set foot in the ring, Seth advanced toward Dean, his FCW 15 Championship medal high in the air and a cocky smirk on his face. The fans chanted ‘ _Fight! Fight! Fight!_ ’, impatient to see them fight for the first time.

Dean wasn’t intimidated. He stepped forward with a nonchalant grin, poking his chest with a crooked finger until he bumped his forehead against Seth’s.

“They fuckin’ love it don’t they?” he asked in a mere whisper as he made exaggerated moves with his mouth, making it look like he was badmouthing the champion. The crowd was so loud there was no need to be subtle.

Seth snorted. “Let’s give them something to enjoy, then,” he muttered before shoving Dean back forcefully and again pulling his medal up as he stepped back. “I have no time for ya, I’m _the_ man, you’re not my focus!” he shouted for the fans to hear.

A small brawl broke into the ring, and the referee had to interfere to stop it and call for the bell.

Following the events on the latest aired tv show, Hunico and Dean started the match.

The booking was simple and effective. Hunico wasn’t happy that he lost against Dean and wanted revenge, so he took the lead at first, as he did in their first match.

Quickly sneaking around Dean, Hunico wrapped his arms around his waist, lifting him in the air and slamming him into the mat.

Dean feigned an effort to try to break free from his grasp, but Hunico was faster. He spun Dean around and moved his grip to his elbow, lifting it and positioning his head under one of them as his other arm curled tightly around his neck for safety.

To help him perform the move, Dean held onto the waistband of his tights with one hand, the other bracing itself under Hunico’s armpit. When both were ready, Dean shifted his weight and bounced together with him to perform a beautiful sit-out gourdbuster.

Hunico repeated the move, again and again, slamming Dean hard onto his stomach against the mat.

By the fourth time he did so, Dean finally got his comeback. His elbow shot up against Hunico’s stomach and used the momentum to grab onto his arm. He bent over before throwing him down with a nudge of his knee, twisting his arm to try to make him submit.

Hunico released himself from the grip smoothly, rolling around on the mat before he scrambled toward the nearby corner to tag Seth.

Chants of ‘ _Seth! Seth! Seth!_ ’ echoed through the venue as Rollins smirked, running his tongue through his teeth as he looked at Dean. “Ya wanted me, Ambrose? Here I am!” he shouted.

Dean stepped back laughing, his eyes fixed on Seth. “Eager much? Huh, huh,” he teased as he tagged Harris and left the ring, smirking full of malice at Seth’s annoyed face.

Seth addressed the crowd, mockingly exasperated. “Ya see that? All talk and no-”

He was cut by a vicious attack from Husky, who was surprisingly agile for someone so big.

Dean watched them wrestle from his corner, pleased by the match they all were putting together.

Any attempt to gain speed from Seth was met ruthlessly by Harris, who manhandled him around the ring until he got him cornered against the turnbuckle. Rollins had no scape.

Kruger tagged himself by slapping Husky’s shoulder, quickly going into the ring and punching Seth twice, a forearm to the face from Harris before he walked out of the ring and swung an arm around the champion’s neck.

Time for a new tag.

Dean impatiently touched Kruger so he could get into the ring. “Look who we got ‘ere,” he yelled, muted by the fans booing as Seth tried fruitlessly to break Husky’s hold. “Our little Seth is defenseless, what’s gonna happen to him now?”

Husky let go of Seth, who slumped against the turnbuckle. Dean launched himself at him, pretending to hit him in the stomach with his shoulder then. He jumped forward and began hitting forearms repeatedly, Seth selling each move like it was devastating.

Sticking his tongue out to the crowd to gather heat, Dean returned his attention to his opponent.

He slid his hands down the back of Seth’s thighs, hauling him up to sit at the top rope.

Seth appeared dizzy to the audience as his head lolled forward, his face covered by a curtain of dark hair. Dean positioned the champion’s feet on the second rope as he bounced on the first one himself, his forehead pressing Seth’s collarbone upwards.

“Fuuuu-” Seth chuckled against his ear, his chest vibrating against Dean’s sweaty skin and there was something in his voice Dean had never heard before. “We are money, dude! What-”

Dean tapped Seth’s thigh as he nudged his chin with the top of his head. He shifted and spat a lock of long hair which got into his mouth, looking into bright brown eyes for a moment. “Up!" he hissed. "Top rope superplex, kick out, dropkick me. That okay?”

“Fuck, yeah,” Seth lifted his head, looking around in confusion as he shakily crawled onto the top rope. He tried to squirm out of the hold while Dean planted one foot on the middle rope and the other on the top one.

His hand scrambled around, blindly looking for Seth’s. When he found it, he gave it a light squeeze, tugging up and disentangling it from the top rope, helping his opponent keep his balance as he stood up on it.

An elbow to the face later, Seth’s arm hooked around his neck as Dean did the same. Smoothly, like they’d been doing it for years, Dean slid slightly under Seth, pushing against his knee as he impulsed himself backward and both fell to the canvas with the picture perfect, brutal looking superplex.

Both sold the impact as if it killed them, and there wasn't much acting there, it was a painful move. Especially for the one delivering it.

While Seth lied dead in the middle of the ring, Dean crawled toward him. He hooked an arm around his knee, lifting Seth’s leg up and drawing it toward his chest as he fell on top of him for the pin.

The referee dropped to his knees and started to count, Seth kicked out at two.

Dean didn’t let go though, he held onto Seth again and tried to go for another pin. Kickout at one. The crowd was wildly into the display of athleticism and chemistry from both performers.

Blindly elbowing Dean on the neck, Seth broke free and rolled out of his grasp, stumbling against the ropes as he tried to rise to his feet. Dean just sat on the mat, madly laughing at him as he waited for Seth to be ready for the upcoming dropkick.

Using the ropes for impulse, Seth performed the dropkick as Dean was getting up, sending him flying through the ring. The referee whispered some instruction to Seth, disguised under checking if he was okay.

Dean was on fire, surprised at the incredible energy he could feel flowing between them. 

Both were focused and giving their all in the ring. Taking a small pause, he held onto the ropes and tried to regain his breath leaning against the turnbuckle.

He looked up in time to see Seth launching himself at him, hooking a forearm behind his head. “Push me,” Dean shivered as the words were breathed against his ear as Seth drew back. “Enzuigiri, sell slow, suplex into falcon arrow. Kruger breaks the pin.”

Dean did as instructed, pushing Seth off him roughly and waiting for him to bounce off the floor with a high Enzuigiri kick. As he slid to the floor, Seth rose, picking him up and quickly suplexing him, not releasing his grip.

Both rolled around on the floor with the momentum of the bump, Dean’s hand pushing at the hollow of Seth’s hip while the other shifted the grip on his trunks and around his head. Dean helped Seth lift him up and twist his body around in the air before he was slammed into the mat with the falcon arrow.

Sitting up, Seth dragged Dean closer to his body by the grip on his trunks. He scrambled to hook his arms around Dean's knee for the _one, two_ \- and Kruger broke the count.

Sometimes the grips and moves hurt unnecessarily or were too rough, or too hesitant. It wasn't the case; their first real test together had been way smoother than it had any right to be, so coordinated it could almost be described as gentle.

Leo attacked Seth viciously as Dean slowly rolled out of the ring, shaking as his heart pounded hard into his chest. “Holy fuckin’ shit,” he mouthed when his back hit the floor outside, licking his lips as he tried to control his breathing.

Less than two minutes of action had made him feel more than two months under contract with FCW.

The match continued, Bo Rotundo breaking a pin attempt from Kruger on Seth and both engaging in a crude fight during the performance's last few minutes.

Once the referee gave the order, Bo pinned Leo for the babyface team win to the fan’s delight.

The attendants were on their feet, marking out at the excellent display and story told in the ring by all wrestlers. The heel team retreated and left the ringside while the good guys celebrated, pandering to the crowd, sending them home happy as usual.

 

 

Dean sighed when he crossed the curtain and held tightly onto Dusty when the legend embraced him as soon as they met in gorilla position.

“Oh, son,” beamed Dusty as he patted his back. “That was great! I knew I was making the right choice. My hairs were standing at the electricity there.”

Dean let the excitement sink in, nodding in agreement because he was still out of words as he clung to Dusty.

It was rare to have such chemistry with someone in the ring off the bat, with no previous training together. Not all bodies molded the same, and there wasn’t usually such understanding without words when it came to pulling the moves.

If such magic exploded in little over a minute in the ring, what would they be able to do during a full match? With the added psychology and storytelling of a feud?

Dean couldn’t and didn’t want to hide the smile that crept to his lips and crinkled the corners of his eyes.

The babyface team finally made it into the backstage area, and all wrestlers celebrated, a mess of handshakes and hugs.

Dean hesitated when he stood in front of Seth, awkwardly offering his hand as he smiled almost shyly, yet excited because of the chemistry they had proven to have in their small encounter in the ring.

“Hey, Seth, that was awesome wasn’t it? Let’s start-” he was cut as he reached out further by his colleague slapping his hand away.

Dean blinked, confused at the slap when Seth was beaming at him. “Fuck that, c’mere, Dean,” he said before almost jumping to hug him. “Did ya feel it out there?”

He patted Seth’s back, still hesitant but feeling a burden lifting off his shoulders as he exhaled. “Fuck yeah,” he breathed, pulling away from Seth.

Seth looked like a child, full of energy and barely keeping himself from bouncing on the spot as he looked around anxiously. His smile immediately widened when he spotted Dusty.

Dean watched in wonder how Seth ran toward Dusty, hugged him and happily babbled about the match. Not used to the sight of the legend and the diva interacting so warmly, Dean didn’t have the time to think of much else because Regal placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it gently.

Looking to his side, Dean’s gaze met a paternal smile. “I’m proud of you, young lad,” Regal said calmly. “Dusty and I knew it was the right choice to give you two a chance to shine, and now we know we won’t be disappointed.”

Nodding enthusiastically, Dean threw an arm around his mentor for a quick embrace. “Thanks. Really, thank you s-”

Regal waved him off with a chuckle. “Don’t thank us, just make sure you don’t fuck up again. Just come to us before doing that.”

Suddenly the world looked brighter for Dean again. The clouds dissolved and he was back to point A again. Signed by WWE, with a tremendous opportunity to change the world of wrestling. With a fucking amazing feud that was going to blow the business and be an essential part of him through his whole life.

He stayed in the backstage area for quite a while. But Dean was unable to pay any attention to the animated conversation going on between Dusty, Seth, and Regal. 

Dean was supposed to be taking part on it but was too busy reconnecting with his dream.

 

 

Still tripping on electricity and how things had almost miraculously taken a turnaround and buzzing with adrenaline, Dean stood into the locker room, absently removing his ring gear.

He felt drunk without drinking, high without smoking, floating on a daze of accomplishment.

Dean looked up when he felt movement. He spotted Seth making his way to the shower area; the towel held on his hand modestly covering his front. With a chuckle, he tried to ease things between them, joke around a bit.

“Hey, dude,” he said as he rose to his feet and followed after him, nodding at Husky who was coming back to the dressing area. Everybody else had showered already. “We earned a nice shower didn’t we?”

Seth flinched, but still turned around and gave him a curious, narrowed eye look as he tore a shower curtain open. His face and chest were flushed, his eyes dark as he stared back at Dean for a moment. He abruptly looked down at his feet before looking back at Dean with a contented smile replacing whatever he showed before. “Yeah, we did,” he gave Dean a thumbs up before frowning. “Dying to get back home though, another two-hour drive back.”

“I know,” Dean said as he stepped into the adjacent shower and closed the curtain. “I thought about staying for a few beers after, but gotta be good for a while.” He joked, testing how far he could go.

The response he got was Seth’s cackling laughter vibrating through the shower stalls. “Ya got some fuckin’ nerve,” he said, his voice slightly crazed with the laughs. “Dude, stay home with your hand for a while, watch your promos or whatever gets ya goin’.”

Dean’s chuckle was swallowed by the sound of the water hitting his body. He flinched at how cold it was, but it quickly warmed over his squirming body.

He could hear Seth’s as well, the sound of the stream hitting the metallic surface echoing through the room.

When he tilted his head away from under the nuzzle, Dean had to bite back another laugh. “Well, not everybody gets goin’ as easy as ya. Saw ya covering it with the towel,” he teased, unable to hold back the bark of laughter when the skin slapping sound on the other shower stopped immediately. “Seriously? Seth?”

There was a short silence on the other stall. “ _Seriously?_ Ambrose?” he blurted, his voice coming almost horrified through the water. “Can’t you mind your own fuckin’ business for five minutes?”

Dean snickered to himself as he stood under the stream again. “Takes you five minutes?” he whistled. “Impressive.”

He bent over in laughter at the annoyed ‘ _Oh god_ ’ that reached his ears. “Y’know what? Thanks, Dean, you got rid of my problem immediately. I just found the cure for the damn ring boners,” Seth sounded annoyed, but sarcasm and a slight mocking shone through it.

Having too much fun at Seth’s expense, Dean continued prodding as he scrubbed some shampoo on his hair. “Hey, didn’t wanna ruin your fun,” even if his colleague couldn’t see it, he placed an apologetic hand on his chest. ”No judging here. But twice I’ve seen you after a match, twice I’ve caught ya-”

Dean jumped when he heard his curtain ripped open, bumping the back of his head against the shower head. “Ouch!” he rubbed the spot, standing under the stream for a moment to wash the soap off his eyes. “For fuck’s sake, Seth! Wha-”

Seth pushed him against the wall, standing one foot away from him. ”Da fuck is your problem?” he groaned, his eyes defiant and fixed on Dean’s. “Does it turn you on? Ya wanna watch and don’t know how to ask?”

Gulping loudly, Dean tried to keep his gaze on his coworker’s eyes, but it wandered over his body anyway. Seth stood in his shower naked, dripping water and soap. Hard.

Dean was no stranger to some form of sex happening between wrestlers after matches. It was common to get rid of ring boners, or to ease any sexual tension that may appear. He just wasn’t too sure of what Seth was doing at the moment and hadn't even considered such a thing happening between them.

He felt awkward upon the heat pooling in his belly and a series of small twitches of his cock.

Seth didn’t look like he wanted a quick shower handjob or blowjob. He looked like he wanted to murder someone.

Dean just gaped at him stupidly, not sure of how to get out of the joke unscathed. He didn’t have to give it any further thought because Seth burst out laughing. “Oh my god,” he choked, bracing himself on the wall. “Should’ve taken a photo.”

Now the one who looked annoyed was Dean, but he ended up chuckling nervously instead. “I thought ya came to kill me while I’m standing naked and defenseless in the shower,” he said, shrugging as he raised his hands.

Seth waved it off, sniggering softly. “Nah, but since you seem so into it, next time you bother me while I’m at it, I’ll just do it in your face. Give ya a show,” he said with a dorky grin as he turned around to leave the shower.

“Seth,” Dean eyed Seth from head to toe, his throat dry as the words left him without thinking. “You do that again, that smile on ya’ face? Gonna turn it into a vertical smile up your ass,” he flinched at how _not_ teasing, and certainly _not_ menacing his voice was.

Turning around slowly to face him again, Seth stared back at him bewildered for a moment. Still, there was a lot of his usual cocky self in his retort. “Don’t fuckin’ test me,” was all he said before he exited the stall and yanked the curtain closed.

Dean stood against the wall, just blinking for several seconds before he stepped under the hot water stream again. None said a single word after that.

He didn’t know if he was more shocked by his words, his cock’s reaction to the whole situation, or by how bold Seth had shown to be.

Either way, he resumed his shower, slightly embarrassed. Dean discretely did the same he could hear happening through the tinted acrylic wall in between. And had he been an honest man, he would have admitted it wasn’t that bad.

His body relaxed after coming, biting his lip to keep himself from making any further sounds. 

All Dean told himself was that whatever the fuck _it_ was, it never happened and would never happen again. It helped calm his heart down and his breathing even before he left the shower.

An already rolled joint in his car and a two-hour drive were waiting for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kept my promise to be nicer this chapter, yay! Been saying it for a long time, but I know it's difficult to trust me when I keep getting Deano into trouble. I'm so excited that we finally reached this stage in their story!
> 
> Did we just witness Seth flirting or is there something else? What's going on? Hey, at least things are looking up for Dean, aren't they?
> 
> What are your thoughts on this? The only benefit I get out of writing this is my own enjoyment and (hopefully) yours, so please feel free to let me know what you think -comments are open to guests too-! What you liked, what you didn't or hated, what you think will happen or anything you want to share with me. Are there any parts of their story you'd REALLY want to see through this series? Let me know; I may deliver at some point!
> 
> Remember you can also drop me a line on Tumblr (Besaster) if you want to and that I keep posting previews, updates, old FCW interviews and pics, and little random bits on the process of writing this mammoth of a series.  
> Thanks for staying with me, see you VERY soon :)


	14. 18th July, 2011

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everybody turned in surprise at Seth, who was gaping at his papers like he’d won the lottery. He didn’t release his grip on Dean’s arm.  
> “Oh, this is something I thought I’d never see, our Seth with a smile, what a thing of beauty!” Dusty teased the high flyer. “You’ve come such a long way boy, enjoy it,” he said with an honest smile.  
> There was no need for Dean to look down at his photocopies and see what made Seth break his usual grumpy silence and claw at him for dear life. When he looked at Dusty, his eyes caught on something written on the whiteboard.

_Tuesday, October 10th, 2017_

_4:50 AM, Seth’s hotel room_

“Some things never change. Do they, Seth?” Dean teased, his eyes following Seth’s movements as he changed into a pair of shorts, the ripples of his muscles in movement. “If anything, your ring boners have only gotten worse over the years.”

Seth shot him a tired glance and hummed absently, ignoring Dean before he crawled back into the bed.

Sitting against the headboard, Seth pulled the covers up to his chest, drawing his knees closer to his chest as he rested his chin on top of the duvet. He looked strangely numb, lost in his thoughts.

Even in his drunk state, it hadn’t escaped Dean that Seth had been silent for a while.

Until the moment they spoke about the fateful night where Dean tried to kill him during their first match together, both had been going back and forth, Seth adding to the story all the time. But something had changed on his face then, and he just sat there listening to Dean.

“Wanna get some sleep, dude? We can continue tomorrow if you want,” he offered, wobbling a bit as he stood up and stripped down to his boxers, keeping his shirt on.

Seth shook his head, visibly shivering when Dean pulled the covers up and mimicked his position. “Nah, I’m fine,” he muttered, covering himself further. The air conditioner was on, but it felt chilly, or maybe it was just the alcohol.

Both men sat there in tense silence for a while. Dean knew something had changed in the air, but he wasn’t sure what or why.

Dean wasn’t sure if he wanted to know anyway.

He straightened up against the headboard at the feeling of a cold hand tentatively squeezing his knee. “Dean?” the hesitation was clear on Seth’s voice, something unreadable settled in his eyes. “Have you ever wondered-” he removed his hand slowly, sliding it down to the mattress as he sighed deeply, finally daring to speak his damn mind. “I mean, you ever thought maybe things have not always been the way you think they happened?”

Caught off guard by his friend’s words, he just stared at him for a long minute.

Dean averted Seth’s gaze, feeling his sight blur and a self-deprecating smile take over his confusion. “Y’think I’m delusional?” his words drawled lowly, taking on an aggressive edge. “That I make shit up?”

He felt the mattress dip and warmth emanating from his side from Seth scooting closer. Not enough to touch but close enough to feel his body heat.

Another tired sigh from Seth as he shook his head. “I’m not attacking you, dude, but-” he said hurriedly. “I was there too, y’know? And some things just didn’t happen the way you remember them. That’s all I’m saying.”

Dean observed him, his drunk mind seemingly unable to process where Seth was going with his statement. He tried to obtain some answers on the worn out brown eyes scrutinizing him, but they only told a mix of sorrow and whatever the hell Seth always looked at him with.

“Hey, c’mere Deano,” said Seth softly, reaching under the covers again to tug at Dean’s arm and urge him to edge closer.

Drunk, drained, and lost as to what else to do, Dean complied, his side pressing against Seth’s. It felt somewhat comforting just to sit there next to him, his body heat seeping into his skin. Dean shifted his arm and rested his hand on Seth’s thigh. He had to look away from his sleepy smile, overwhelmed by the affection he perceived but _couldn't_ allow himself to read or accept.

Dean’s gaze went back to Seth when he felt an elbow nudging his side and the tickle of warm breath against his throat. “By the way, stop talking like you don’t know what ring adrenaline is.”

Disregarding Seth’s words and the playful nibble on his jaw that made his lips part in a grin, Dean went back to their story.

Had he been an honest man, he would have admitted _that_ was easier than focusing on the things he always felt radiating from Seth when they were that close.

But he was a liar, and Seth was there, ready to call him out on it.

 

 

_Monday, 18th July, 2011_

_08:45 am, FCW Building, Tampa FL_

The Summer SlamaRama show had disrupted the usual class and meeting schedule in FCW due to it being a special event.

Instead of the Wednesday the week before a taping session, the usual briefing meeting with management took place on Monday, leaving the promotion with just four days to arrange everything. The whole tv roster had been summoned to the classroom at 9 am to start working on it as soon as possible.

Dean arrived early and took a seat in the classroom, lazily sipping on a black coffee. He made no effort to stifle the yawns that made his head sink against his shoulders and his eyes water.

Only Johny Curtis, Mike Dalton, Naomi, and Erick Rowan had arrived so far, and they all looked as ready to go back to bed as he felt.

Yawning loudly again, Dean didn’t notice the presence next to him until he felt rather than heard someone flop heavily on the chair next to his.

He blinked the sleep away, slightly startled as he gazed to his side.

“Good morning to y’too, Seth,” his taunting tone lost any possible effect as another yawn swallowed his voice. Dean reached up to cover his mouth as he yawned, scrubbing his eyes dry afterward. “I take it you're not a morning person?”

Seth gave him a weird look, amused or maybe just grouchy before he averted his gaze. Dean vibrated with silent chuckles as Seth rose to his feet and dragged himself toward the coffee machine, coming back soon with two cups instead of one.

Just when he was going to sit down again, he seemed to think it better, his gaze searching for a seat further in the room.

Dean watched him with mild curiosity as he finally sat down again on the same chair. Seth placed one cup under his seat and nursed the other in his hands, slightly fidgety. There must have been something fascinating about his coffee, or probably not, but he just wouldn’t look up from it.

Bored since Seth wouldn’t react to his taunting, Dean spotted Roman Leakee, who just arrived into the classroom. He motioned for him to take the seat next to him with a flick of his hand. They made some small talk about their Sunday, catching up after the SlamaRama event as they waited for everybody to arrive and settle for the meeting.

The room slowly filled and soon Dusty came through the doors barking an excited _good morning_.

Once the greetings and morning groans died down, Dusty and Regal took their seats. Meanwhile, Joey Mercury set coffee and tea for them and Prichard on the table.

“Good morning again, kids,” Dusty began, beaming as his eyes ran through the roster. “I know it’s early and you’d rather be sleeping, me too, believe me. So I’ll try to make this entertaining for you so we can start working immediately.”

“Can we work on going back to bed?” Bo Rotundo butted, sticking his tongue out childishly at everybody for a collective laugh.

Dusty pointed at Bo. “Well, son, most of this guys will. But you, I’m afraid you'll have a _lot_ of work ahead this week,” he stated playfully as a response to the champion’s groan. 

“As I was saying, well. First of all,” The American Dream stood up with a fatherly smile, eyeing the whole roster. “We want to thank you guys for working so hard on the SlamaRama event. All of you participated in some capacity, promoting and building everything up the previous weeks and during the event itself, which was an incredible success. So congratulations kids, you did a great job, we’re so proud of you!” Regal and Mercury immediately joined him on a round of applause toward the students.

As he sat down again, Regal regained the roster’s attention, silencing the cheers and comments. “We are indeed, and you should feel proud of yourselves. But the show must go on, and we need to set our sights on the tv taping we've got coming this Thursday.”

“Most of you will be off on Thursday,” continued Dusty, lifting a finger at the general complaint. Everybody wanted to work the tv tapings for obvious reasons. “But we encourage you to come watch the shooting; it’s gonna be an extraordinary one. You may not appear on screen, but it will change everything going forward for you and those who come to FCW after you.”

The room filled with indistinct muttering as all the students tried to guess what was going on. Dean listened to Roman make his guess as a small knot set in his stomach, making his skin tingle.

It didn’t take long for Prichard to come in with a massive stack of photocopies. He first handed one to the managers before he went on to hand it out to the wrestlers. Joey approached the whiteboard and began scribbling the planned schedule.

Dean hadn’t even looked at his booklet when a loud gasp and a hand clawing at his forearm distracted him from his conversation with Roman.

Everybody turned in surprise at Seth, who was gaping at his papers like he’d won the lottery. He didn’t release his grip on Dean’s arm.

“Oh, this is something I thought I’d never see, our Seth with a smile, what a thing of beauty!” Dusty teased the high flyer. “You’ve come such a long way boy, enjoy it,” he said with an honest smile.

There was no need for Dean to look down at his photocopies and see what made Seth break his usual grumpy silence and claw at him for dear life. When he looked at Dusty, his eyes caught on something written on the whiteboard.

**FCW TV #150 - FCW 15 Title: Seth Rollins (c) vs. Dean Ambrose**

**15:00 Time Limit - Draw**

**FCW TV #152 - FCW 15 Title: Seth Rollins (c) vs. Dean Ambrose**

**20:00 Time Limit - Draw**

Dean stared at the words for a few moments, letting their unspoken meaning sink in, his eyes meeting Seth’s and sharing his delight.

He still had a job, the feud was finally going to be launched, and the layout for those matches surpassed any of his expectations. Management trusted him and things were just becoming real, tangible.

He couldn't get any luckier.

Sinking into the back of his chair, Dean broke Seth’s grip which was starting to get painful.

His colleague looked like he was going to jump out of the seat at any moment. Seth’s energy and grin were infectious, and he found himself smiling back when their eyes met again. Both buzzed with enthusiasm and whatever it was that emanated from Seth that he didn’t care to analyze. But still, he somehow felt it as well, whatever the fuck it was.

“We understand and share your excitement regarding this feud, gentlemen,” Regal broke the moment with a proud smile. “But if you don’t mind, we have three shows to discuss and a lot of work to assign to Bo.”

After the general chuckle at the jab at Rotundo died, Dusty and Regal spent the following few hours going through the whole debriefing, as usual, breaking down each segment and match. Every wrestler added in their input and questions, giving valuable feedback to management and their colleagues about how everything sounded.

Dean just listened, still floating in his little bubble of realization. He felt like he could graze success with his fingertips, yearning to grasp it so it finally became real.

Who didn’t shut his mouth was Seth, who for once seemed to have a lot to say and spent a good chunk of time going back and forth with Dusty. He voiced his ideas and questions about the booking cockily, almost demanding.

It would be fair to say he expressed himself with intelligence and an eye of what would be best for the business. Dean had seen glimpses of it before but hadn’t fully comprehended how far it went until that moment. 

Regal and Dusty seemed delighted with his feedback, and he could only agree with them. The kid knew what he was doing.

 

By the end of the meeting, Prichard announced that as from the following week, Dean would join the tv roster for wrestling training. The teacher mocked him, apologizing for separating Dean from his beloved newbies, and promising he would allow visits from time to time if he missed them.

People began to leave around lunchtime, once everything was spoken of. Some of the guys lingered to chat in small circles or ask questions to the managers.

Dean stood talking with Roman, who seemed ecstatic with everything going on.

“Man! How cool is this?” Roman’s grin miraculously didn’t split his face in two. “I’m winning my match, you have your feud finally, and you’re gonna train with us!” He said clapping Dean on the arm.

“You look happier than me, dude,” chuckled Dean. “But yeah, lookin’ forward to it. The newbies are gonna kill me before I get a chance to move with you guys though.”

Roman laughed good-heartedly. “I can only imagine, just hope you don’t talk the same shit when you train with me,” he teased, hands on his hips and a wiggly eyebrow raised. Both cackled awkwardly. “But I think you’ll have enough issues getting along with Rollins as it is.”

Dean shrugged. “Nah, don’t worry about the little fucker, got him und-” his words were cut by the same person he was talking about jumping on his back, the arms around his throat almost choking him. “Oh god, instead of an opponent I got a fuckin’ koala,” he whined rolling his eyes at Roman, shoving Seth off his back. “Da fuck, Seth?” he asked amused as he turned to see Seth bouncing on the spot, beaming.

Seth hit him repeatedly with the stack of photocopies. “C’mon don’t tell me ya aren’t excited about this? We got it, Dean! This is gonna be fuckin’ awesome.”

Before Dean could say anything, Roman patted his arm in compassion, laughing. “I can see how under control you got the diva, good luck with that,” he patronized, giving Seth a weird look before turning back to Dean. “See you at the restaurant, or do I wait for you?”

Dean cast a sideways glance at Seth, who just stood there awkwardly looking at them, left out. There was something in his face he couldn’t read, but Rollins was obviously not invited to join them.

He shrugged and grinned at Roman. “Sure, dude, I’ll catch up with ya in a minute,” he said mimicking Roman’s hand gesture as he left.

Once the Samoan was out of the room, he turned his attention back to Seth. “Da fuck, Seth? What’s with you invading my space lately? One would think ya can’t get enough of me,” he inquired playfully.

“Nononono- Seriously?” Seth groaned, going back to his familiar scowling self. “Last time I checked, it was you w- know what? Nevermind,” he sighed tiredly. “Don’t know why I fuckin’ bother. I thought ya’d be as excited as I-”

Dean cut him with a laugh. “Dude, I doubt anyone gets as _excited_ as _you_ do,” he emphasized the words with a clear intention. “I’m scared of what ya may try to pull on me next time.”

It was fun to rile Seth up, and apparently, it always worked. At least for a moment. Long enough to amuse Dean every single time.

Seth stood closer to him, something gleaming in his eyes. Whatever it was, Dean didn’t want to know. “I think it’s ya who wants me to pull something, but I’m not interested,” he hissed before stepping back. “Anyway, I just thought we should talk about this,” he said raising the booklet again.

“Well, I know ya can’t get enough of me but gotta go now, some of us got friends waitin’, ya know?” Dean suddenly flinched when he realized the effect of his words on Seth.

Dean felt a pang of guilt at the sight of brown eyes cast down, Seth’s shoulders rolling down and his lips into a tight, angry line. “Seth?” he hesitated as his colleague turned around to leave.

Seth froze on the spot, slowly gazing back at Dean. He didn't attempt to hide his disappointment.

“We can meet tomorrow when you're done training to go over the booking if ya want,” he offered with a tight grin. “The smoking is on me, but keep your excitement and your hands to yourself, okay?”

A small, reluctant smile crept through Seth’s lips and eyes. And Dean didn’t care about whatever that was, but something still nagged him the wrong way about pushing Seth away like that.

Sometimes, the guy just seemed to want to bond with him. If there was something that Seth appeared to show in all their interactions, it was that he liked Dean.

The idea of building a friendship with him didn’t sound that bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going through some difficult times, and that's kept me from writing OSWIW as quickly as usual. I've felt unable to angst and have been trying some different things in the meantime.  
> If you're interested, you can check out 'Sometimes' for some shameless FCW times smut (NOT related to the ALAWKTT universe). Another option is the light-hearted AU 'Barcodes & Swipes', where Seth has an intriguing Tinder Super Like from NXT's main heel while he works at a convenience store to pay his wrestling lessons, getting ready to take the NXT tryouts at the end of the year ;)  
> Anyway and back to OSWIW, I hope this chapter, which sets us up for their first FCW tv match coming in Chapter 15 makes up for it. We even went forward to 2017 for a bit, yay!
> 
> What are your thoughts on this? The only benefit I get out of writing this is my own enjoyment and (hopefully) yours, so please feel free to let me know what you think -comments are open to guests too-! What you liked, what you didn't or hated, what you think will happen or anything you want to share with me. Are there any parts of their story you'd REALLY want to see through this series? Let me know; I may deliver at some point!  
> Remember you can also drop me a line on Tumblr (Besaster) if you want to and that I keep posting previews, updates, old FCW interviews and pics, and little random bits on the process of writing this mammoth of a series and everything else that's coming.  
> Thanks for staying with me, see you VERY soon :)


	15. 19th-21st July, 2011

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the action progressed, drunk enthusiasm took over. More beer, another joint. It felt good to mark out like kids watching the legends perform, soaking on how good the match was and the crowd’s involvement on it.
> 
> “Fuck, Dean,” Seth was the one to break the silence, his voice shaky and his eyes glued to the screen. This time Dean didn’t flinch when a hand dropped on his thigh; just laid there like Seth didn’t even notice what he was doing. “Ya realize that’s gonna be us someday?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you all and haven't forgotten about you! I will reply to all the pending comments tomorrow. Thanks for your love and patience, you guys brighten my days *hearts*

_Tuesday, 19th July, 2011_

_Seth’s Apartment, Tampa FL_

Hanging out with Seth had gotten out of hand. Dean intended to smoke a couple of joints, drink some beer; just discuss their feud for an hour or two. He’d offered to meet on Tuesday more out of guilt than actually wanting to.

After all, things were still _weird_ between them after whatever the hell happened in their shower encounter.

Had Dean been an honest guy, he would have admitted that whenever the memory randomly crossed his mind, it made his heartbeat rush and his groin stir.

But you’re _not_ a liar if nobody can call you out on it.

Surprisingly enough, they barely spoke about the match, the booking or the feud itself. The hour or two turned into several. And the initial intention to grab a beer? It ended up with both wasted; drunk and stoned out of their minds.

Seth proved something Dean had forgotten. When he wasn't an asshole, the guy was fun to be around.

Dean shouldn’t have been surprised since this wasn’t the first time they bonded, but it was the first time they did it on a personal level. Away from the FCW building, alone in Seth’s apartment since his roommates were out. It wasn’t even over their feud, despite it being their excuse to meet.

The first few minutes had surely been awkward; he felt out of place, and Seth seemed to babble nervously about anything he could think of. It hadn’t taken long for it to dissipate though. Dean found it was easier if he didn’t entertain some thoughts or mention certain things; the ones that never happened and would never happen again.

Throwaway comments about their time in the indies led Dean to tell a bunch of stories. Seth’s interest and less guarded attitude reminded him of that day back at FCW’s parking lot, how he teased him about looking at him with starry eyes. He didn’t dare comment on it though, not even as a joke.

Still, there was no denying the irony of their stories was worth a laugh. Both knew the feeling of driving twelve hours across the country for a ten, fifteen-minute match they may not even get paid for.

Being a professional wrestler cost money none had in the first place. Sometimes the only reward would be keeping their hopes alive; the tiny chance that it would open a door in the future. That alone justified any sacrifices.

Both had been around the same people, shared a few mutual friends and even more acquaintances. At different points in their careers, they’d wrestled for the same promotions.

Oddly enough, their paths had been comically parallel yet never crossed until FCW.

Sure, they met a couple of times back then; always outside of a ring. A handshake or an acknowledging nod at the back of a venue. Scattered meetings at a pub when they were drinking with mutual friends. Quick ‘ _hey man, how’s it going?_ ’ moments, an exchange of generic words before they parted without giving the interaction any further thought.

Just the familiar routine of meeting a guy you have nothing in common with other than being fellow wrestlers.

 

The conversation shifted to tales about working with people like Jimmy Jacobs, Bryan Danielson, Austin Aries, Roderick Strong. The list went on and on. Same as for bitching about bookers in promotions such as Ring of Honor or AIW. Same places, same people, yet their experiences couldn’t be any more different.

At some point during their conversation, Seth brought his laptop to the kitchen to play some background music. His colleague’s cackle spurred Dean’s excitement as he revealed the insides of some of his most brutal CZW matches.

It surprised Dean that Seth had watched most of them already, revealing he hadn’t lied when he claimed so a few weeks ago.

They ended up watching them anyway; analyzing the storytelling — sometimes the lack of it for the sake of brutality —, commenting on the in-ring work, the wounds and injuries, the creative ways they found to make them look real. The loudest barks of laughter followed those times when things got too far and thought he’d actually killed his opponent, the bleeding wouldn’t stop or when he thought he would die for real.

Dean enjoyed that Seth was able to relate to them, even with a way less violent career to look back into.

Once the stiff stools became too uncomfortable for their stoned asses, they moved to the living room to sit on the small sofa.

Seth’s laptop soon became surrounded by scattered empty beers, bits of tobacco and crumpled cigarette papers on the coffee table. The overpowering smell of marijuana lingered in the air in a dense cloud, refusing to leave through the open window.

 

Video after video played on the laptop. A bit of everything. Seth’s performances from his time as Tyler Black, old WCW segments. Reminders of WWF, Dean’s old promos and matches; any random sketches or moments they could find. 

The booze and smoke made him feel bold enough to tease his colleague, their previous tensions already forgotten.

“That was a good one, _Tyler_ ,” he chuckled as the referee raised Seth’s arm in victory for the second time in a row. “But ya sure ya can control yourself while watchin’ your matches?”

This resembled more the Seth he could handle, scowling and flustered as he half-heartedly punched his knee. “Arrgh- screw you,” he groaned. “Ya talk like I’m a fucking monkey, ya think I live with a hand around my dick or what.”

“Pretty sure the only reason you’re not doing it right now is to try and prove me wrong,” Dean sprawled further into the sofa. “What? Don’t look at me like that, won’t judge ya as long as ya keep your hands to yourself,” his smirk broke into low chuckles as he mixed weed and tobacco in his hand, ready to roll another joint.

Seth made an exasperated sound that was neither a huff or a sneeze, his messy bun bouncing with the shake of his head. “Don’t know why I even bother,” he slurred before looking away, suddenly very interested in the laptop.

Getting Seth riled up was something he suspected would never get old. Still, Dean wasn’t so at ease with him to justify taking it further. 

Not when he’d already seen glimpses of how bold the guy could be. Not when the mere thought of it inexplicably made him twitch.

“Ya shouldn’t take me so fuckin’ seriously,” he tried to tease, actively ignoring how dry his throat felt.

This time it was Seth's turn to chuckle. “Ya shouldn’t try to annoy the hell outta me whenever you get a chance then,” his lisp was more noticeable when drunk, but it didn’t bother Dean. “What d'ya wanna watch now?”

Dean noted how different Seth and he were. Even on the way the sat. His colleague’s back was straight, sitting cross-legged, their knees bumping on the small sofa.

It felt good to roll and stretch his neck for a moment, releasing some tension. “Dude, I swear I wish ECW was still a thing,” he slurred the little confession. “Besides all the hardcore, you’d see such awesome technical matches sometimes. Wish I’d been born earlier.”

Seth picked the laptop and set in on his lap, sitting back further into the sofa. When he turned toward Dean, his face stretched with a dumb grin and crinkled yet puffy marijuana eyes. If it was usually difficult to try and follow the fucker’s mood swings, being drunk and high didn’t make it any easier. “Fuck yeah. Shoot,” he pointed at the screen with his head.

Humming pensively, Dean quickly decided which match he wanted to watch. “Funk versus Hart, 1997. Dig it?” he suggested with an arched brow. “Gimme paper.”

“Niiice,” Seth drawled as he quickly typed on YouTube. Once the video started loading, he reached out to hand Dean a paper before he went on to roll a filter. “Fucking legends. Sometimes you’d forget how fucking good Terry was. He sold his leg like it was ripped off him in that match,” he said excitedly.

“And Bret- it was awesome, dude,” Dean agreed, feeling the heavy cloud of the smoke slowing his brain down yet making his skin tingle as he thought about the match. “The crowd was so into it, throwing chairs to Funk to get back on Bret! All those near falls, I love it. That’s fuckin’ storytelling if I’ve ever seen it.”

 

Once the video loaded, Dean watched Seth place the laptop on the table. Then he sat back on the sofa, snickering to himself. “And _I’m_ the one who gets too excited? Listen to yourself, dude.”

An energetic pat on his thigh distracted Dean from the wrestler’s entrances, almost dropping the lit joint when he felt Seth’s hand lingering on his skin. Something. Strange, uncomfortable yet welcome. Whatever. 

“Pot and kettle are the same at the end of the day, aren’t they?” Seth pointed out.

Dean laughed at that, trying not to choke on the smoke as he batted Seth’s hand away. He tugged at his shorts in a spontaneous attempt to cover the exposed leg. “Told ya before and I tell ya again, I know you can’t resist me, but I’m nooot interested,” he mocked, his words dragging as Seth snatched the joint from his fingers and took a long drag at the weed. “After all, you’re ugly and have no tits.”

Bringing his knees up against his chest, Seth snorted at that. “Got a feelin’ that’s never stopped ya before,” he said nudging Dean’s side with his elbow. “How was it?  _You do that again, that smile on ya’ face? Gonna turn it into a vertical one up your ass_ ,” he mimicked Dean’s tone during their shower incident, his face making obvious he was trying not to laugh. 

The motherfucker was enjoying it, and after all the teasing he took, Dean couldn't blame him.

The match started but Dean’s eyes weren’t on it. He gulped loudly, not sure for the first time whether whatever just happened had been an invitation or if  _he_ wanted it to be one. “Maybe you should stop takin’ me so seriously?”

Seth cackled, loud and hysterical. “Duuuuude,“ he chortled as he passed the joint, raising his hands in innocence. “Your words, not mine.”

Dean blinked at his rival’s amusement. Being drunk and so high, he felt bolder than his intentions to stay out of any trouble in his tenure in FCW would justify. A voice in his mind muttered that whatever the fuck was going on between him and Seth had nothing to do with it. 

Still, he was glad his loose tank top was long enough to cover the front of his shorts. Dean wasn't hard, but his dick was undoubtedly reacting to the mental image and Seth's playful teasing.

Dean stared at Seth for a moment, exhaling smoke before a chuckle rumbled out of his chest.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t ya?” he breathed, lower than he would have liked, a hand stilling mid-air inches away from Seth’s knee, retreating from whatever he was about to do. A loud shout coming from the laptop brought him back to reality, and he settled to ruffle his colleague’s hair instead. “I’m more interested in the match though,” he was good at flashing cocky smirks.

He heard it, the loud breath escaping Seth, saw him sink down into the sofa under his touch, as flushed as Dean felt.

And not for the first time, Dean felt that whatever the fuck was happening between them was something Seth wasn't fighting. Far from it, he seemed to want it instead.

 

The match went on and the tension between them lifted, their breath stolen watching Bret Hart work Funk’s leg. Terry Funk returned the favor with the same intensity he was hit. 

It was easier to focus on the screen than on the body pressed against his side, justified by the lack of space.

As the action progressed, drunk enthusiasm took over. More beer, another joint. It felt good to mark out like kids watching the legends perform, soaking on how good the match was and the crowd’s involvement on it.

“Fuck, Dean,” Seth was the one to break the silence, his voice shaky and his eyes glued to the screen. This time Dean didn’t flinch when a hand dropped on his thigh; just laid there like Seth didn’t even notice what he was doing. “Ya realize that’s gonna be us someday?”

He stared at Seth, a questioning hum being all he could offer. A shiver ran through Dean's body as his words sunk in and the hand on his leg grew heavier.

“One day, it’s gonna be us having a match like them. Us doing _that_ to the crowd. _This_ ,” he said pointing at the laptop. “This is what our feud is all about, creating this future again in the business.”

Hypnotized by the video playing in front of his eyes, Dean knew the thought left Seth just as breathless. “I’ve thought of it before, but now- Now it’s the first time I can _really_ feel it,” he confessed, thankful he could blame his vulnerability to drugs and alcohol. “Fuck, Seth. We can’t fuck this up, ya hear me?”

He glanced down at his lap when Seth’s hand squeezed his thigh firmly.

When he looked back at who he just realized was becoming a friend, Dean found a crooked grin staring back at him. “We won’t, Dean,” Seth may be high and red-eyed as fuck, but his confidence had nothing to do with drugs. “We’re gonna be the best of our generation, believe that.”

Dean couldn’t help it; those words were so stupid it was hilarious. Laughter shook his body as he instinctively threw an arm around Seth’s shoulders in a brief, awkward hug, his cheek brushing against his coworker's hair. “Sounds like a fuckin’ cheesy slogan, dude,” he said as he let go of him. "Chicks are gonna love it."

Seth joined him on the laughter, and Dean thought becoming friends didn't sound too bad. His thoughts were cut when both directed their attention back to the screen at the sound of a huge crowd pop.

None said a word during the last minutes of the match, nor when the next video started playing.

 

At some point, Dean bit back a yawn watching Shawn Michaels and Bret Hart wrestle. A quick glance at Seth showed he wasn’t the one who was fighting sleep, dragging the night more than necessary out of comfort and too much weed.

The sight surprised Dean. It was somewhat ironic.

Someone so uptight, melting into the torn fabric of the sofa? The guy was not entirely curled into himself, but close to it. Seth’s usually tight lips relaxed into something that wasn’t quite a grin, but not a smile either. He had a glassy look in his eyes, half-hidden under drooping lids.

Dean trembled slightly as a loose strand of hair brushed his bare shoulder. It was time to go home, or he would do something he may regret. Whatever the fuck it was.

It could be his imagination playing tricks on him when Seth implied he didn’t mind him staying. Maybe the guy just didn’t want Dean to crash on his way home and fuck up their careers.

Whatever the case, Seth appeared welcoming and somewhat conflicted as he lazily followed Dean toward the door.

Friendly looked like an appropriate word to describe the slight awkwardness as they bid their farewells. Both seemed to be biting back something none of them could probably put the finger on.

Dean told himself, as Roman suggested not long ago, that Seth was just trying to be his friend.

He wasn’t so sure anymore as he sat in his car. All he told himself as he started the engine and drove away was that, whatever the fuck had happened between them that night, never happened and would never happen again.

 

_Thursday, 21st July, 2011_

_FCW Arena, Tampa FL_

A nervous wreck had never felt so at peace.

Dean shut his eyes tight, reaching up to empty a water bottle over his head. He bounced on the spot, trying not to be overridden by his excitement.

It was finally happening. 

There was no turning back; he couldn’t be any more psyched and terrified at the same time. Dean shook his head to get rid of the excess water and opened his eyes to glance at Seth.

The high flyer stood a few feet across from him, anxiously cracking his knuckles. “Hey, Seth,” he called, unable to contain his grin. “Let’s hate the fuck outta each other out there, dude.”

Seth, puzzled, rolled his eyes before he flashed a nervous smile of his own. “Fuck, yeah,” he chuckled. “Let’s show those fuckers what our generation can do. Gonna beat the hell outta ya!”

Before Dean could retort, a producer approached him and gave him a signal. “Ready?” the guy mouthed, raising a thumb.

Dean nodded in response, fully aware that he was seconds away from changing the history of wrestling.

“ _The following is an FCW 15 Championship match. There’s a fifteen-minute time limit, and the contender that scores the most falls in the time limit will be declared the winner,_ ” Sonya announced seconds before the bell rang and Dean’s music hit the arena.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I just post chapter 15 after forever? YEP! Did I fail my promise that it would be about their first match? YEP! *runs away from angry mob* I'm sorry, but if you follow me you'll know that I had to decide to break it in two. I've been too busy and tired with real life, and my energy and inspiration to write have been absent. I actually deleted the whole chapter, but then it came naturally. Had I included the match, it would have gone around 6-8K words and taken forever to write and edit. So I set to give you this instead, a bit shorter than usual but just as angst packed. Hope you liked it! :)  
> This means though that chapter 16 will be exclusively about their first televised match! YEEEEP!!  
> PS. Yep, I'm still obsessed with Sami's heel turn and am still trying to catch up with SmackDown :(
> 
> So... WOW. What can I say about the chapter? I will shut up and listen to what you have to say instead, I feel there is a lot to comment on this chapter! :D
> 
> What are your thoughts on this? The only benefit I get out of writing this is my own enjoyment and (hopefully) yours, so please feel free to let me know what you think -comments are open to guests too-! What you liked, what you didn't or plain hated, what you think will happen or anything you want to share with me. Are there any parts of their story you'd REALLY want to see through this series? Any further Seth POVs you'd like to read? Let me know; I may deliver at some point!
> 
> Remember you can also drop me a line on Tumblr (Besaster) if you want to and that I keep posting previews, updates, old FCW interviews and pics, and little random bits on the process of writing this mammoth of a series.
> 
> Thanks for staying with me and for your infinite patience, see you VERY soon :)


	16. 16 [ Part 1 ] - Back To The Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [ Part 1 - 2017 ]  
> He let out a snort, shifting to take some pressure off his neck and maintain eye contact. “Da fuck it wasn’t. I thought ya were gonna jump me. Y’were so touchy and- weird,” Dean hesitated on his choice of words. “Like ya were tryin’ to- Y’know. It was like ya wanted me to- Saying I could stay and shit.”
> 
> Seth’s jaw pushed down and rubbed his shoulder as he laughed. “What. Think I set ya up?” Surprise flashed briefly on his features, perhaps not expecting Dean's honesty. He tipped his chin down, breaking their gaze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since chapter 16 is 7K words long, I decided to cut this scene off to make it a bit shorter and the reading more comfortable. Tomorrow night the remaining 6K words will be up. We'll go back to 2011 and FINALLY, their first FCW match. 
> 
> Enjoy! It'd be a great reward to the effort it took to write it.

**_Tuesday, October 10th, 2017_ **  
**_5:35 AM, Seth’s hotel room_ **

Drunk inside the hotel room and ridiculously snuggled, Dean sat under the thick blankets, feeling safe and comfortable enough to open up gradually. The more he talked, the easier it became to revisit his memories.

Whenever his chest rose and sunk with a deeper breath, Dean's ribs would graze his folded legs and poke at Seth's hand. It eventually slid down and rested on his inner thigh. The energy between them was calm and Dean was enjoying the conversation even if it hadn't had an easy start.

“Y’know? I think-” Dean struggled to voice his thoughts. He was in a dreamy haze, heavy-lidded and mellow. It felt like it could have been any night from years ago. When was the last time he just sat wasted with Seth leaning into him, humming lazily as they spoke? “Things got weird after the first time I went to your place, don’tcha?”

His eyes slit open to peek at the slow rustle of movement he felt against his body.

Dean watched Seth rearrange his position against his side. He ended up sitting up higher; his chin rested on Dean's tee-shirt clad shoulder. Dean stiffened, and a chill crawled up his back as Seth's free hand roamed into the space between the curve of his spine and the thick cushions. Seth’s palm warmed up his skin, somehow tugging to bring Dean closer.

“Hmnn?” Even through his blurry sight, he could tell Seth seemed interested. He could make out a little grin tugging at his lips despite — or perhaps because of — the awkward hold he had Dean in. “What do ya mean? Weird y’say?” 

He let out a snort, shifting to take some pressure off his neck and maintain eye contact. “Da fuck it wasn’t. I thought ya were gonna jump me. Y’were so touchy and-  _weird_ ,” Dean hesitated on his choice of words. “Like ya were tryin’ to- Y’know. It was like ya wanted me to- Saying I could stay and shit.”

He wasn’t even bothered anymore by the tingling sensation running up the inside of his thighs. Dean didn’t care to hide it either, just accepted the things the mix of alcohol, memories, and Seth’s body heat around did to his dick. It had been months since they'd been in such an intimate situation and his body wasn't complaining. He knew he wasn’t alone there, Seth was an open book and his eyes said what didn't need to be spoken out loud. 

Seth’s jaw pushed down and rubbed his shoulder as he laughed. “What. Think I set ya up?” Surprise flashed briefly on his features, perhaps not expecting Dean's honesty. He tipped his chin down, breaking their gaze. “Nah, wasn’t tryin’. Wasn’t opposed to it though if we're gonna be honest.”

Dean huffed a soft laugh as he rubbed his temple playfully against the top of Seth’s head. He was somewhat aware of the loss of pressure somewhere in his body, but only realized he'd been holding his breath when the hand on his thigh hovered over his boxers before it rested on his leg again. “Whatcha think would’ve happened?” he prodded, trying to conceal a shiver but exposed by the croak of his voice.

Seth shrugged. “Dunno,” he admitted before he looked up with a sheepish grin. “Nothing, I guess. It was different then. Whatever.”

“Yeah?” Dean teased with a smirk, the gesture apparently making the other bolder.

“Not that different though,” Seth pointed out smugly. “I mean- I’m bein’ all touchy and weird now, and nothing’s happening, huh?”

Dean pushed him away playfully, feigning disgust. “You’re the one stopping _nothin’_  from happening though,” he accused as he crawled over to Seth.

His friends amused cackle was all it took for him, what hit whatever raw nerve waiting to snap _._ He was still trying to sound exasperated but Dean couldn't let him bring it up. "Dude, are you for rea-" 

Dean didn't let him finish the sentence. He shoved Seth into the cushions and slid his hands under his thighs, feeling strong legs tighten at his sides. He pressed their bodies together and for a brief moment relished the hint of shock in Seth's features.

For a while, both let go of the self-control they had left. There was feverish groping, biting rather than kissing, hands that wanted to clutch everywhere and seemed undecided as to where to go. Shameless noises enthusiastically licked away by a tongue or two. Pushing each other away to crash back immediately with a desperation both failed to mask with eagerness and alcohol.

 

Guilt in the form or Renee's face caught up with Dean in the middle of the mess of limbs, tongues and rapid breathing. He buried his face in the crook of Seth’s neck and willed the room to stop spinning around his friend's skin. The room would be entirely silent if it weren’t for their panting and the gentle buzz of the air conditioner machine.

Dean realized Seth was blissfully oblivious to his train of thought. He felt trembling hands settle on his back and hip as he sucked gently on a patch of skin he’d just nuzzled, his forearms propped on the pillows for support and his beard brushing Seth's throat.

Both knew each other well enough to tell the other was excited — besides having their dicks poking each other through their clothes —, and the little voice of reason telling him to stop couldn’t keep Dean from teasing the exposed skin in front of him. “Want it too,” he mouthed against Seth’s throat, his eyes closing as his friend clutched at his buttocks and pulled him closer.

Dean knew he had to stop, that he would torture himself later when he came back to his senses. But he also knew he couldn't _._

“F-fuck, Dean,” Seth’s voice was shaky and a moan caught in his throat under Dean running wet kisses along his neck. Dean _couldn't_ stop.

“That day- This’ what you wanted?” he prodded, equally affected as Seth ground against him, his thighs pressing harder on his sides. Dean gasped and drew back, led by the sudden tug at his hair and flinching at the impatient smack of lips against his mouth. 

He could tell Seth wanted it as much as he did, but still… he _had_ to stop.

Dean felt relieved when Seth created some distance between them and broke the kiss. It didn't last though, he appeared to change his mind a moment after. He sat up and inched closer again, staring defiantly. “Doesn’t fuckin’ matter anymore,” he said hoarsely, the scowl Dean hadn’t seen in a long time taking over his brows. “Fuck it.”

The pause conceded Dean time to get back to where he was and what he was doing. He flew back and moved over when Seth launched himself at him, chuckling when his friend stumbled and almost fell face first on the mattress. 

Dean raised his hands in peace at the glare stabbing him. “Hey, ya wanted to talk, didn’t ya?”

Seth’s cackle had a definite _‘Fuck you’_ mumbled through it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To Be Continued in Part 2 - 2011


	17. 16 [ Part 2 ] - 21st July, 2011

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean knew they were giving a hell of a show. Both knew it. Their gazes carried a silent conversation when they crossed, and he could see Seth was marking out as much as he was. If they could create such energy on their first singles match, nobody would ever be able to touch them as time went on. Dean knew they were that good, and it was as exciting as it was scary.  
> Was he grazing his dream with the tip of his fingers already? All he knew so far was that it felt right. So fucking right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of Chapter 16, make sure you read Part 1 as well :)
> 
> Enjoy!

**_Thursday, 21st July, 2011_ **

**_FCW Arena, Tampa FL_ **

A nervous wreck had never felt so at peace.

Dean shut his eyes tight, reaching up to empty a water bottle over his head. He bounced on the spot, trying not to be overridden by his excitement.

It was finally happening. There was no turning back, and he couldn’t be any more hyped.

He shook his head to get rid of the excess water and opened his eyes to glance at Seth.

The high flyer stood a few feet across from him and cracked his knuckles with shaky hands.

“Hey, Seth,” Dean called him, unable to contain his grin. “Let’s hate the fuck outta each other out there, dude.”

Seth looked puzzled, rolling his eyes before he flashed a nervous smile of his own. “Fuck, yeah,” he chuckled. “Let’s show those fuckers what our generation can do. Gonna beat the hell outta ya!”

Before Dean could retort, a guy from production gave him a signal. “Ready?” he mouthed, raising a thumb.

Dean nodded, still not fully conscious of how he was seconds away from changing the history of wrestling.

 

“The following is an FCW 15 Championship match. There’s a fifteen-minute time limit, and the contender that scores the most falls in the time limit will be declared the winner,” Sonya announced seconds before the bell rang and Dean’s music hit the arena.

"Introducing first, the challenger. From Cincinnati, Ohio. Weighing two hundred and twenty pounds- Dean, Ambrose!"

He stiffly approached the camera. Dean swung around himself; he was all crazy faces and twitchy energy. It was a bizarre inner battle, portraying maniacal aggression while fighting the pleased smile clawing its way to his lips.

Bless being a heel.

He tried to deflect the nerves taking over him by chewing gum, readjusting his jaw, badmouthing the camera, bouncing. Anything that would drive the attention away from what the person behind the character felt. The anticipation, pride, fear, and sheer delight bubbling inside Dean were too private to let share with the world.

Those sensations were both heightened and balanced by the awareness that he needed to keep some energy in the tank. Dean would perform twice that night at a high level and needed to stay in top form, physically and character wise.

He doubted he’d be able to tone it down at all though, there was too much at stake to give his character and in-ring work less than his all.

With his lips pressed together; Dean bit the inside of his cheeks as he stepped into the ring. He told the audience with his mannerisms something they would only begin to understand a few years later. Right there, at that moment, he was opening the doors to a new era for wrestling in front of their unknowing eyes and couldn’t feel any prouder of it.

Dean slipped into a mask of arrogance as he nodded at the instructions from the producer at ringside. Seth’s music was about to hit. He spun around, taunting the fans until the low guitars of Seth’s theme screeched through the room and their attention shifted to the ramp.

“And his opponent! From Davenport, Iowa, weighting two hundred and five pounds. He is the FCW 15 champion. Seth, Rollins! ”

He watched Seth point to the crowd as he walked mechanically toward the ring and stopped to slid the championship medal around his neck. His gaze was fixed on Dean, who bit his tongue to refrain chuckling at the sight. 

Seth was the image of pride, his chin up as he climbed the ropes to pose for the fans on the post.

“Hold on,” instructed the referee, standing between them with his arms extended before he beckoned Seth to hand him the medal. That was Dean’s signal to get some heat.

He lunged forward, standing behind the referee’s back. “Ya think you’re the man? I’m better than you. I’m winning this match,” he nagged while the referee held up the medal. Dean watched Seth’s frown deepen as he turned around and flung the red tee shirt out of the ring.

The moment the referee moved away to hand out the medal to a crew member, Dean stormed toward Seth. “Ya know what you in for? Can’t run now!”

He didn’t get how Seth managed to keep his mouth shut. The kid just held the stare, head high and only stepping forward at the referee’s signal, bumping into him.

 

The bell rung, and for what felt like an eternity, they circled the center of the ring slowly. Dean released some tension by rotating his wrist, willing all anxiety away in the motion. “I’m gonna steal the show.”

“Ya beaming man,” Seth sounded amused but was visibly tense. Dean knew he was nervous, but it played well for the show they were about to give.

Dean shortened the distance between them, locking his jaw as he spoke so it would look like he was badmouthing Seth. He felt on edge and unable to contain his excitement, grinning like a maniac. “Y’see that heat? They’re into it.”

“Y’doubted it?” Seth muttered, his scowl softening as his eyes brightened. “Any picks?”

“Mat wrestling?”

Seth shrugged almost imperceptibly, and he took it as a _'Sure, why not?'_.

Dean waited until Seth charged toward him. Both snapped forward and clutched a hand to the back of the other’s neck. Dean used the other to grab Seth’s forearm and try to break the hold. He immediately felt the same done to himself.

He tried to force Seth’s elbow down, using his own to push his head back and apply pressure to the extended arm. It didn’t work, and Seth took advantage of it to make Dean retreat against the ropes.

Obliged by the loss of balance, Dean let go of his opponent’s arm and curled his own around the top rope to keep himself up. He used the momentum to push his fist against Seth’s jaw and corner him into the turnbuckle with his whole body weight.

“To the center,” he said discretely on Seth’s ear before he slowly broke the contact. Dean stepped back until he was able to remove the constriction around his neck and Seth batted his hands away.

He hadn’t foreseen Seth’s ring awareness. The kid teased a brawl when he realized the referee would get into the picture again, muffling the sound of his voice for the cameras and crowd. “Get it going,” the official advised. After some more tentative seizing and provoking, both tried to repeat the previous hold.

Dean took his cue when Seth’s fingers curled loosely around his bicep instead of his shoulder to assist with the move. He reached down and grasped Seth’s hand to make it look like an attempt to break away. When Seth’s chest plastered to his side, Dean swung around and let go of his hand so he could lock the hold, one arm around his jaw and the other under his armpit.

He sucked in a harsh breath and let go, shaken by the sudden oxygen deprivation. Rotating on his feet, he allowed Seth to take the lead and use the momentum of his pent-up kayfabe — and also real-life — anger.

They grappled until Dean caught Seth’s hand again with both of his.

The match wasn’t even one minute in, but he already felt intoxicated by ring adrenaline. He noted fingers splaying between his shoulder blades, a lingering brush on his skin when the contact broke as he pushed Seth’s arm off his body.

Had it not been a televised match, he would have laughed at the gentleness of the touch. Or perhaps would have freaked out at it. Whatever.

 _Whatever_ seemed to be the most accurate answer for most of Seth’s enigmas, and Dean was okay with it if it meant not having to dig any deeper into them.

 

He twisted Seth’s wrist further, watching the strain on his shoulder. It was soon followed by pained groans. Seth tried to push Dean away, holding onto his arm and ducking under to exchange their roles.

Dean did not fake his pain because it was real. The torsion applied to his arm drew a sharp ache on the inside of his shoulder.

With the heel and face roles clearly established in the feud, the wrestling at the beginning screamed bloodthirst both ways. It was a perfect fit for the story they wanted to tell. 

Seth was the babyface in peril, rightfully snapping after all of Dean’s badmouthing and attacks. Proud, protected, a cocky fan favorite. He had to protect his championship and position in the company at all costs.

And Dean? He was the heel with a chip on his shoulder, impatient to make a statement and leave his mark at the top of the industry. There was no better way to begin your WWE career than beating the fuck out of the best FCW had to offer. Obnoxious, vicious and unpredictable, he wanted the crowd to see an incredible danger in him, somebody cruel and relentless who came to take over the company.

Simple yet effective storytelling at the end of the day. And it was a huge success judging by how the crowd was eating it before the match began. The fans seemed to enjoy their strange chemistry as much as the previous crowds and Dusty had.

He rearranged to a firmer grip on Seth’s hands. Dean took control of his arm and rolled over to spring to his feet.

The same sequence followed with Seth rolling over once, twice. “On y’back,” he whispered and released Dean’s hand so he could flip and bump on the mat.

He caught Seth’s eyes on him, waiting to call his next move. Dean rolled onto his stomach to avoid the collision just before Seth used the ropes for impulse and jumped past him, abruptly pushing himself up to be knocked over into a brutal armbar.

Dean wasn’t sure if Seth just wrestled like that; if that was his way to fuck with his head during the match, or whatever. He was only certain one of Seth’s fingers was fucking _caressing_ down his shoulder, almost digging into his armpit as he held the arm in place to wear it down. “Da fuck? Let go!” he hissed.

Seth didn’t let go. Instead, he rotated over himself as he rose to his feet, dragging Dean with him. Fuck, that hurt. Dean told him by tapping on his forearm, a clear _‘slow the fuck down.’_

The fucker was enjoying it. Dean felt it for the brief moment Seth twisted his arm harder and accidentally brought it to the front of his trunks. He wanted to laugh out loud but settled for a low, amused ‘ _Seriously?_ ’.

Seth ignored the tease. He rested his forehead on Dean’s shoulder as they exchanged muttered instructions. Dean watched Seth’s back as he jumped and forcefully brought his arm down at a wrong angle.

It felt like an improvement; the move was meant to hurt and didn’t involve any fondling.

Dean groaned and tangled his free hand on Seth’s hair. He kept the other arm flexed and stable so Seth could use it for leverage and impulse, then yanked at the back of his head to throw him off balance.

Seth’s shoulder blades impacted on the mat and Dean helped him jump back to his feet, immediately repeating the move.

This time Seth propelled himself up better, immediately returning the favor with enough force to help Dean roll over in the fall.

“Hah!” Seth shouted, his cockiness back as they began to add some rhythm to the match.

Dean stumbled to his feet. “Catch my foot,” he gritted through his teeth as he vaulted forward to hit a kick.

He hopped in one leg as he mock-pleaded for Seth to let go of his boot. “Ya beggin’, dude?” instead, Seth dragged Dean’s foot as he turned and kicked the back of his thigh. It let Dean know when to drop onto his back.

Seth immediately went for the first cover of the night. Dean kicked out at one. He sprang to his feet while Seth stayed on his knees and Dean rushed toward him. When he felt the hit — rather a tap — at the back of his knee, Dean dropped onto the mat. 

Another awkward cover. “Feel that?” Seth stuttered, his voice was higher pitched than usual.

Whether he meant the chemistry and the weird electricity between them, the crowd living it up, the magic of the moment or whatever, Dean had no clue. He lashed out hard enough to send Seth flying off him when he kicked out at one.

 

Dean wanted to make Seth angry. Anger and some real blows were something he could deal with.

After all, he was wrestling a very physical style lately, a perfect fit for Seth’s flashier but almost as stiff moveset. Seth was no stranger from a real punch or chop here and there from what he'd seen in his Ring Of Honor videos.

When both were up and lunged at each other, Dean gave him something to feel. He noticed Seth prepared for a forearm and decided to surprise him with a legitimate slap. Not a hard one, it wasn’t meant to hurt.

“Feel it? Y’like that?” As the clock ticked, Dean felt more comfortable and began to enjoy the match.

Seth sold it like a punch in the mouth, shaking with kayfabe anger as he turned. He didn’t look at Dean, but to the ceiling over his head. Probably to avoid grinning like a child. The glint in his eyes told Dean he was having a blast.

No way in hell was Dean going to blame him for that, or he’d be guilty of the smile threatening to stretch his lips.

“I’m the man,” Dean raised his voice for the audience. “I’m better than ya. Look at me,” he commanded when Seth looked away. “Look at me when I’m talking to yo-”

He winced when he saw the slap coming straight to his chin, the smack echoed through the arena. It was harder than Dean’s but landed awkwardly, just enough to sting without leaving marks.

Dean nursed his jaw while the referee told him to play dirty. He raised a leg to kick Seth in the stomach and waited for him to seel the move. The moment he bent over, he grabbed a handful of long hair and hauled him up to deliver a punch to the top of his head.

He allowed some time for Seth to attempt to cover himself and stumble on shaky feet before his next attack. Dean whispered some instructions as he pushed Seth against the turnbuckle and struck a hard forearm to his chest. Fuck, he was so excited that was working stiffer than lately. It hurt like a bitch but felt _good_.

Dean tried to shake the pain off. He bit a curse before he hit another higher up Seth’s chest; not as nasty but sold like it was even worse.

Seth bending over and gasping for air bought Dean some time to speak with the referee.

He wasted no time and shoved Seth against the turnbuckle with the intention to strike another forearm. So far the display of athleticism had been fantastic and Dean felt proud of their craft, challenged to turn things up a notch.

Dean stumbled as Seth ducked this time and set to hit. He cowered comically into himself in an attempt to protect his body from the blow as he tried to muffle his laughter.

It got the desired effect on the audience. The crowd was on fire, and Dean wished he could see Seth’s embarrassed scowl. He felt the smack of a hand in the middle of his back, and how it then dragged down his skin.

He shivered lightly when the touch ended. The fucker was doing it _again_.

It wasn’t like Dean wanted to be beaten to death in every match, nothing further than reality. Still, while every wrestler had a different level of tolerance or liking to pain, there were some rules to follow to make things realistic.

For example, _not_ caressing the fuck out of your rival when you’re supposed to be beating the living shit out of him.

Dean was a professional; he sold it like his back had been broken in two. He knew nobody would perceive the peculiar touches Seth seemed intent on giving him, but regardless... “Kick my head off,” he muttered.

 

Dean winced at the forearm hitting his chest and took a few steps back to gain momentum and do the same.

Seth dodged it though, then went for a punch and Dean cowered to protect his head. It earned him a new smack, now on his upper back, which he again sold hysterically.

Another uppercut to his chest and he retreated toward the apron. Dean shifted his weight to be easily hauled and thrown toward the opposite ropes, curious about what Seth would do next.

He held onto them to stop the bouncing back to the ring just in time for Seth to do a backflip and land on the spot.

Leave it to the fucker to show off with his flippy shit. Seth wanted to fool the world into believing he was so good he could even turn a dropkick into a backflip out of nowhere.  _Karma is a bitch_ anyway, so he landed awkwardly and almost on his face to Dean's glee.

Dean wasn’t up for filling time, so he rushed toward Seth and hauled him on his shoulders to go for a false finish.

He botched the move at another unexpected touch while Seth squirmed and clawed at his back to break free. He let go too soon, and his rival collapsed on the mat. Easy to fix. Dean made his body fall back on top of Seth’s and kneeled up, in the perfect position to take an _Avada Kedavra_. It never hit. 

He abruptly rolled out of the ring and waited by the apron as Seth prepared to go for a suicide dive.

Dean caught Seth with a forearm to the back of his head as he grabbed onto the ropes to break the impulse and avoid a collision.

He didn’t realize how hard he pushed down, not until he heard a pained curse and the thud of a body against the apron. As he walked away, the shock on the crowd’s faces and the comments from a guy on the front row told him Seth slipped and bumped on his head.

Panic rushed through Dean's chest and crushed his lungs. He’d done it again.

He had gone too far, upset and overwhelmed by the moment and Seth’s stupid provocation.

Did he fuck up so strenuously he injured the only chance he had to change the landscape of wrestling? Was the motherfucker okay?

Dean didn’t dare take a look. There was no need for acting as he held onto the steel stairs for balance, his whole career and all the hardships he’d gone through flashed before his shocked eyes.

Everything sounded distant, more of a muffled murmur than tangible noise. Was the crowd still there? They were so loud a moment before... And who was shouting something intelligible behind him? Dean couldn't make out the words. 

Anxiety vibrated through his head and stung in his eyes, but Dean forced himself to focus and see. He couldn’t lose control now. He had to assess the situation and face whatever reality laid on the mat.

Dean dared to glance inside the ring, relieved to see Seth was okay, just selling the move. All sounds came back at once including the referee's orders, almost overwhelming him. 

He wasted no time and went for the pin. They exchanged some quick ideas as he held Seth’s leg up for a one count.

Still shaken but back to his element, Dean took control of the match and yanked Seth to his feet by the back of his head. He pressed a hand down the middle of his opponent’s back at the same time to let him know where he would hit.

Seth screamed in pain, his back arched from the blow. Dean didn’t give him a break; he shoved him against the ropes. He spat all the filth he could think to enrage the fans and keep getting real reactions out of Seth.

The kid sold the blows to his chest and face like a champ. Dean had to admit Seth proved he was up for the challenge, even on board to play dirty and take things to the next level.

He liked that.

 

 _Let's go Seth_ chants filled the arena. During the staged commercial break, Dean wondered if the crowd would realize the meaning of what they were _really_ witnessing on that ring. Would it hit them before the match ended? It was taking all his restraint not to shout at them about how privileged they were to be there watching him wrestle.

The match slowed down for a while; they needed to keep something in the tank for the second performance later in the night.

Minutes followed with plenty of acknowledging the crowd, rest holds, calling the upcoming spots to map out the rest of the match. Headlocks, more uncalled for touches that both upset Dean, and whatever. What a fucking fitting word.

None entirely carried the match. Both interchanged offense and again sped up the pace when the referee advised they were back from commercials. It was amusing for a taped show to have even those so strictly planned.

Every time Dean hit a blow, Seth retaliated with one of his own. Sometimes wrestling matches resembled a choreography but tonight was not the case. There was an intense physicality to it, and not just because of the stiff strikes and dirty transitions. Dean felt something he could only catalog as electricity buzzing on his skin. It made his hairs stand at every contact.

Adrenaline, tons of it. It was the only explanation Dean could summon for the prickle running through his body and the tiny shocks fattening his dick.

Seth colliding against his body on the turnbuckle made it clear he wasn’t the only one feeling it.

The smug whisper came out of nowhere while Seth dragged him by the hair toward the middle of the ring. “Like it dirty, huh?” Was it _that_ obvious or was Seth reading his fucking mind?

“Stop groping me, buddy,” Dean warned. Ring chubs happened all the time, but it was something natural and not _intentionally_ provoked like Seth was blatantly doing. He tried to shake the words off and willed his cock to behave.

“ _Curbstomp_ ,” Seth didn’t acknowledge the warning. It was probably for the best, to keep the match going without any extra bullshit.

Dean was focused on the match despite whatever was going on between them. In his mind, there was only room for performing safely, put on an entertaining show with a strong story, and the fun he was having wrestling the match.

And if he was honest — which he wasn’t —, Dean would have admitted he was shocked by how his body reacted around Seth when they wrestled.

The fans were having a good time, delighted with the exchange. Dean sold the _Curbstomp_ the best he could, kicking out at two. He rolled over, adjusting himself on his trunks as discretely as he could while Seth feigned shock at being unable to put him down.

He laid down and jumped to his feet when Seth tried to finish him with a springboard. Instead, the high flyer ran into a shoulder tackle before Dean escaped the ring to try and put himself together.

From the barricade, he stole a glance at the clock; they had a bit over seven minutes left.

He took paused to try and catch his breath again, to calm down his heartbeat and body. But mostly, to drink the crowd’s heat in and enjoy the moment while the referee leaned over the top rope and told him to get back inside the ring.

Dean knew they were giving a hell of a show. Both knew it. Their gazes carried a silent conversation when they crossed, and he could see Seth was marking out as much as he was. If they could create such energy on their first singles match, nobody would ever be able to touch them as time went on. Dean knew they were _that_ good, and it was as exciting as it was scary.

Was he grazing his dream with the tip of his fingers already? All he knew so far was that it felt right. So fucking right.

 

As requested, he rushed back into the ring to attack Seth with a knee to the face.

Seth dodged it; he used the momentum to catch Dean with a clothesline and throw him out of the ring. Everything happened so fast Dean just saw him flip over the top rope.

Dean barely caught him mid-air to redirect the fall. Both ended up on the floor, selling the move like it was devastating. He readjusted his knee pads as he saw Seth crawling toward him from the corner of his eye. "One! Two!" the referee started to count.

He slowly sat up, feigning being stunned so Seth could haul him back into the ring.

And again, the bastard lingered too long on the touch across his lower back, gently kneading with his fingertips. Dean paid him back by kicking out of the pin with more strength than needed, including an elbow to the face as soon as Seth clutched at his knee pad to keep his leg up.

“Let him pout,” the referee almost broke character at the inside joke. Dean tried not to chuckle while Seth groaned in frustration for being unable to get a three count.

They engaged in more strikes on the apron. Dean stumbled into the ring so Seth could use them to hit a springboard for another near fall.

Dean sat up while a disbelieving Seth held up two fingers and questioned the referee. Pride swelled his chest when he caught a glimpse of a beaming William Regal from the corner of his eye. All the faces in the audience looked similarly happy.

 

He let Seth soak the moment in as well and arrogantly pose for the crowd. His arms were raised, and he took more time than usual to charge his superkick. In kayfabe, it allowed Dean to recover and get ready to counter.

“We’re killing it, dude,” he whispered when he grabbed Seth’s foot to block the move. Dean quickly ducked under Seth’s armpit when he prepared to hit another kick and flung an arm around his waist. “Watch y’face,” he suggested as he lifted Seth and slammed him against the mat. The transition was so smooth it must have looked brutal for the fans and on camera. Fuck, he was dying to watch that match.

Dean grasped Seth’s legs and brought them close to his body as he held them up, using all his weight to pin him down. He applied pressure with his thighs to immobilize Seth and make the pin look realistic.

“Kick-out!” He hissed when the referee gave the signal for Seth to know when to break the pin.

It was Dean’s turn to question the referee’s counting. “Are ya kiddin’ me?! Only two?” he played up for the audience.

Less than five minutes left. Another twenty-minute match to come. Judging by the chemistry and the technical wrestling on the first, it could _only_ get better. Dean couldn’t believe he was having such a good night.

Hyped up, Dean bounced near the ropes, bragging as he _‘shot’_ Seth with an imaginary gun.

He picked Seth up from the floor intending to hit the _Midnight Special_ to go for another pin attempt. Again, Seth sneaked his way out of the move, and they continued with a short sequence of holds.

Seth circled his waist with an arm, lingering too low and Dean decided he would also play dirty. Maybe he could make him stop if he fed him his own medicine.

Dean pressed his torso against Seth’s back and wrapped his arms around his waist, as low as he could without messing with the PG rating.

He teased a suplex but let go when Seth elbowed his temple, holding onto the back of his trunks instead to conceal the groping going on. “Now kick me,” Dean whispered and created enough separation for Seth to hit an Enzoiguiri to the back of his head.

He sold it like death, rolling onto his back to make the pin easier.

He helped by raising his leg slightly once Seth dragged himself on top his chest. Seth brought Dean's leg closer to his face for the cover as he used his body to press him onto the canvas. Dean thought Seth did an excellent job to portray equal parts of exhaustion and desperation.

Another kick-out and Dean stayed on the mat long enough for Seth to climb to the top rope. He didn’t let him hit the move and pretended to hit the back of his head, making Seth land with his balls on the steel rope.

With Seth bewildered and — kayfabe — screeching in pain, Dean climbed on the second rope and made it look like he was preparing Seth for his signature superplex.

He may be a humble person but knew his superplexes looked fantastic. That wasn’t the plan though. Dean wanted to have some fun and annoy the fuck out of Seth.

With Seth’s head against his hip, he raked his short nails along his back. The skin under his fingertips felt hot and slippery, slightly sticky with a mix of sweat and body oil. Dean did it several times, and thankfully his acting work was decent enough to avoid chucking at the shrieking he got in response.

Still, before Seth began screaming in pain for the audience and the camera, Dean didn't miss a surprised _ohh_  mumbled against his leg. He also caught the way the body under his hands leaned into the touch for a moment. “Da fuck,” Seth hissed under his breath and stirred. Judging by how Seth returned the favor seconds later when Dean teased a superplex one more time, it looked like he rather enjoyed it.

Dean knew at this point Seth was doing it on purpose, the whole provoking him. And it was working on all levels. The audience loved it, Dean was on edge, and the match was loaded with energy and storytelling.

While Dean didn’t scratch too hard — enough to make it look real, but not to actually hurt —, Seth blatantly caressed him again.

Dean repositioned his forehead against the turnbuckle as Seth held him in place with a hand on the nape of his neck. He knew it was coming because they just called it, but he wasn’t expecting _that_. Dean felt Seth’s fingers trail up his back from the waistline of his trunks to his neck.

There was something hesitant in the way he did it; perhaps surprise or even apprehension with a hint of whatever the hell was Seth’s problem.

It was more of an intimate caress than actual scratching in the middle of a fight. Dean shivered when sweaty hands felt up his sides then squeezed gently to cue the sunset flip attempt that was coming.

He didn’t know what the fuck Seth thought he was doing, but Dean would be lying if he said he couldn't imagine the answer after their interactions lately. Was Seth exploring and dealing with whatever the hell was going on between them on the go? Was he trying to provoke it? What if he'd been playing games all this time just to get specific reactions out of Dean during their matches?

Dean wasn’t sure whether that was a genius idea or if he would have to beat him up for real once they were done taping the shows. At the moment, all he cared about was putting on a great show and keeping his dick under control. 

He was mostly succeeding.

Everything else? They could pretend it never happened and would never happen again.

 

Dean managed to avoid the sunset flip and sat on the top turnbuckle to catch his break. He sold being stunned by the kick to the head that followed. Dean teased falling off the ropes while Seth hinted to the crowd he was going for a top rope move.

When they landed on the mat after a countered hurricanrana, Dean rolled over and pinned Seth for a two count. 

Seth broke it easily, and Dean held onto his legs to try to put him on the _Sharpshooter_. Seth squirmed and scissored him though, assisting to give the flip more momentum.

Rolled into a small package, Dean couldn’t hear the referee counting and didn’t break the pin until Seth squeezed his leg hard. He knew the match was almost over and wished it could last a few minutes longer. The crowd was on fire, and so were they. Hell, if anyone suddenly announced it would be stretched to one hour, he would have no complaints.

For how uncomfortable and weird things were between them; Seth seemed to get the best out of him in a wrestling ring. Despite whatever the fuck his coworker was doing, Dean felt wrestling him came naturally. Like they’d been doing it daily for years.

Dean knew the possibilities were endless to what they could do together in a match. How good could their performances get? Fuck, he looked forward to that.

The referee told them to stall for time, to drag things out until the end. They did, exchanging momentum and roles as they hit each other viciously, portraying exhaustion as they kept trying to put the other down and failing.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is a one-minute warning. One minute remains!" Sonya announced. As he laid on the floor, Dean took in the latest instructions from the referee.

He crawled and stumbled when he tried to stand up, falling on his ass for the fan's amusement while Seth crawled toward the ropes, putting as much distance as possible from Dean. The referee seemed to give the same instructions to Seth, and Dean punched the mat in rage to hype himself for the last few seconds of the match.

An angry staredown gave way to both striking at each other, playing being desperate and out of control for the fans. Seth tried to pin him again, but Dean shoved him off, leaping to his feet to go back to delivering as many blows as they could.

The action didn’t stop after the bell called the end of the match. They continued brawling until the referee stepped in between them and told them to stop.

Dean retreated toward the ring post and it hit him. 

The match was over; everything had gone okay. They put on a fantastic show. Dean didn’t fuck up, didn’t injure anyone and had found an incredible — yet scary — ring chemistry with Seth. Exactly the way it was supposed to happen. He shone during the match, just like he knew he could.

Excitement and adrenaline vibrated all over Dean's body in sync with his heartbeat.

There was one more thing left to do. Only Dusty, Regal, the referee and Dean knew about it.

They had told Seth that Dean would badmouth him after the match to gather heat for the second one. Conveniently, none told Seth that Dean would steal his medal and throw it away, making him look like an idiot once again before he stormed to the gorilla position. 

He was dying to watch the tape so he could see the tantrum Seth would surely throw at the referee. But it would have to wait; there was a long night ahead of him. A bit over one hour to keep his muscles warm and avoid injury, a twenty-minute match, and a most probably pissed-off diva. And sure, Dean's frustration and confusion about whatever the fuck happened in that ring with Seth. 

The fucker wasn't gonna leave unscathed.

None of that mattered when Dean set his eyes set on Dusty and was met with the pride and recognition he'd only dreamed of until that moment. There were tears in Dusty's eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took forever and is not as polished as I would have liked. I still hope you enjoyed chapter 16 and that it made up for the wait with this double update.
> 
> We've seen equal parts of want and restraint, guilt and saying 'fuck it' to them all. There's also the fact of him cheating on Renee. I know for many people this is a delicate topic, but the way I see life, cheating doesn't automatically equal evil. Some people are just shit, sure. But there are people who don't know better, people who don't know what to do with their lives, not in their right state of mind (drugs, alcohol, a bad mental state)... If I have learned something in life, is that things are never black or white, and is the grays where we need to look at. So while it's a shit thing to do, realistically speaking it's something that happens and people are not always proud or happy about it.
> 
> And finally, the match! It was a bitch to write it. It's really difficult to balance the action during a few short minutes with the ongoing story and character's feelings while they have a hard-hitting match haha. I just hope you liked the experiment. PLEASE let me know your thoughts on it!
> 
> Next chapter you'll get the fallout of the match and the rest of the night :)
> 
> What are your thoughts on this? The only benefit I get out of writing this is my own enjoyment and (hopefully) yours, so please feel free to let me know what you think -comments are open to guests too-! What you liked, what you didn't or hated, what you think will happen or anything you want to share with me. Are there any parts of their story you'd REALLY want to see through this series? Let me know; I may deliver at some point!
> 
> Remember you can also drop me a line on Tumblr (Besaster) if you want to and that I keep posting previews, updates, old FCW interviews and pics, and little random bits on the process of writing this mammoth of a series.
> 
> Thanks for staying with me, see you VERY soon :)


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